Shah Rukh Khan: 'Feel free, because that’s what essentially my talk is about; feeling free', Dhirubhai Ambani Internatioanl School (DAIS) - 2016

30 May 2016, Bandra East, Mumbai, Maharashtra, India

Thank you, David and thank you everyone for inviting me here. This is a huge privilege, not because I’m the chief guest. I think it’s a privilege mainly because I’m one of the parents who have had the opportunity. And I’ll take this opportunity on behalf of all of you to put my hands together and thank Dhirubhai Ambani International School for doing what they’re doing to our children. So, I want to thank all the teachers, all the heads of departments, Zarine and Fareeda, I mean, you’re the people I used to come to, when I have trouble I come and look at your faces and go away, and I’m calm; everything will be sorted out. Kava sir was fantastic at cricket matches and shouts louder than anyone else in the world can, all the staff members, the management, the gentleman who man the security outside; so wonderful and so even the guy who does the parking back there, everyone for the last 13 to 14 years that I have been here. And especially my friend, Mrs. Nita Ambani. Thank you so much for looking after our children. Thank you very very much.

Ok, so good evening boys and girls. Exams are over, if I may say so, darn school is over, which seemed an impossibility just a few years back. That horrible math or physics, or whoever your least favorite teacher is, you will never have to see again. That PE coach who was all about to get you is done and dusted now. I know everybody is looking there! You want to party now, relax, hang out with the beautiful friends you’ve made in the last 13 years, 14 or some, less. The last thing you really want to do is sit here and listen to someone give you advice on life lessons and what the future holds for you. And to top it, my qualification to be doing this is zilch, nada, not at all, nothing. Really, apart from the fact that Nita and I are friends and thus, I have some benefits. My reason to be here is the same as that of your elder brother or your sister being allowed to do things that you’re not allowed to do at home. I’m like them, older! That’s all. So if you think that I have had a successful career, as I was getting very embarrassed when David was recounting because also it’s been so many years since I’ve got an award. Got to work harder! Also if you think I’ve had a successful career, a great past performance and my experiences of it; are no assurance that it will work in the future for you, or work for you at all. And anyway, none of what I say today, you will remember as soon as you’re out of here or maybe even earlier, because you’re still sleeping from the big party you guys had last night.

What I say may make sense to your mom or dad, who will remember It some years down the line, and they will also remember it for the inappropriate things that I’m going to say tonight. But you are here, and so am I, so I promise to keep this extremely crisp and sharp, about twenty minutes tops. But be rest assured, I understand if some of you walk out in the middle of my speech for bladder control reasons. Feel free to do that. Feel free, because that’s what essentially my talk is about; feeling free.

The freedom to be yourself, to listen to your inner voice, and never let anyone tell you who you are, who you ought to be, including me. These are the only years of your life in which will be allowed to make regret-free mistakes. As you do so, you will chance upon your dreams. And hopefully make a happy life out of their fulfillment. When you get to be 50, as some of your parents are, none of the mothers, they all look 35. They’re all looking extremely hot. Some of your parents are, and like I am. You will know that the bulk of your regrets are from not having done what you wished to do. So don’t hold it against your over diligent father who’s telling you to study extra, even post the exams, your annoying mother, who is still depressed that your handwriting is bad. You know she doesn’t understand if it was bad five years ago, chances are that your handwriting is not going to improve for the rest of your life, ever! Mam, get that clear, it’s not going to happen. But, let me assure you, squiggles and ants and mosquitos on paper won’t kill your career. Any doctor here will tell you, indecipherable hieroglyphics may actually be a career booster. Don’t be angry that your parents tell you that friend of yours is not good company, he is spoiling you. And please don’t hold it against them when they tell you he’s a movie star son and will become a hero what about you? Let me assure you, movie stars’ sons and daughters also have to work. Basically just don’t grudge the old man and the old bag, ever. All we parents try to do is to make you happy with your choices, by annoying you with ours, that are actually your choices anyway, but you just don’t know it yet. Your hormone levels are too high for you to understand this confusing logic. All you want to be is yourselves and you’re quite sure you know what that is. And I’m here tonight on your side only to confirm your convictions, as you set forth into the big bad world, from the loving shelter of Mrs. Nita Ambani and all these wonderful and beautiful and warm teachers and faculty who have nurtured you to embark on your own journey through life.

I was talking about parents, because I think tonight is about parents so I’m going to tell you something about my parents. My mother was top class, she was really cool, she loved me and cared unconditionally, was beautiful like all mothers and believed that I will be the most famous man in the world, and I could do no wrong. In Delhi they say, “Humaara bachha na, is the apple of my eye”. Some Punjabi ladies make it bigger, like, “the pineapple of my eye”. So I was the pineapple of my mother’s eye. My father was a gentle man, he was very educated, Masters in Law; extremely intelligent, knew seven languages, had traveled the world, knew his politics, fought for the freedom of our country, India, and excelled at sports like hockey, swimming and polo. He could cook and recite poems and knew the capital of every country in the world. My father was also very poor, he was unemployed and struggling to make ends meet for 15 years of my life, that I had the privilege of knowing him. From when I was 10 to when I was 15.  Not being able to afford fancy gifts for me, he would wrap up something old that belonged to him, in newspapers and declare it as a birthday gift when my birthday came along. In the next eleven and a half minutes left, that I have, is the story of the five gifts my father gave me and how they helped me become what I am today.

When I was ten my father gave me an old chess set. Chess is a reflection of life, they say, and as cliched as it sounds, it’s probably true. The first thing it teaches you is that every move has a consequence, whether you perceive that it does or does not, nothing you do, not a single moment is empty of living. So think of things through, not always, but often enough. Often enough, so your life does not feel as black and white and as uniform as the squares on a chessboard.

Sometimes in order to move forward you might need to take a few steps back and there’s no loss in doing something that hurts in the short run but proves worthwhile and time. Sometimes the Queen might seem sexier, they always do, but if she gets taken by an advisory straight after you save her, then you might be better off saving your castle or the bald Bishop, instead. So don’t always choose that which seems more desirable, if something tells you that it is going to get you into a whole lot of trouble. What I mean is also about tonight, drive home while your wits are about, instead of staying and getting stoned senseless after the party here. You can’t get anywhere in chess, if you don’t look out for the little ones around you, the small pawns. Life is like that too, if you forget the smallest of your people, or become foolish enough to imagine that the little grades you are given are of no value, you end up nowhere. When you look around, you learn to notice all the tiny little things that make your existence privileged and special. Just the fact that you are here, in this very moment, at this fantastic school in the company of such adoring parents, is the product of immense love, hard work and sacrifice on the part of many people present here. Taking your blessings for granted is the most ungracious stupidity, both in chess and in life.

Then, there’s what they call, don’t know how to pronounce it, but sounds very cool, the zugzwang (German for “compulsion to move”) the zugzwang is a really cool word, it sounds like a Chinese aphrodisiac, but it actually is German for, ok I will tone this down, “Oh! Fish I got to get out of here”. Anyway, for those of you who have never played the game, it’s when you get so stuck, that whichever move you make is a bad move. It will happen to each and everyone of you, at some point in your lives. For sure, a moment will come when it will look like there isn’t anything going right and nothing you can do to prevent disaster. Ask me, I just finished Dilwale and followed it up with fan! So, when you are in zugzwang, kids, don’t panic. Whenever there is trouble and you know there is no way out, or disaster, don’t panic. With a little embarrassment you will survive it. Trust me all you have to do is make a move. All you have to do is move on a bit. As the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland said, when Alice came to the fork in the road, “If you don’t know where you’re going it doesn’t matter which road you take”. I will add to it, as long as you take one road and don’t keep standing in the middle of the fork until a truck runs you over. Often in zugzwang, your enemy wins that particular move, but mostly you end up winning the game.

There were no computers when I was a kid, and nor were there i-phones for us to google pornography on, while our parents were busy checking the selfie, likes on Instagram. One of the most precious gifts my father gave me was an Italian typewriter. I learned how to use it from him, how to roll paper into the roller and press the lever. I don’t know if you guys have seen a typewriter. It’s…Google it. I’d hear the clicking sound of the letters as I pressed them with my fingers, forming words on blank pages fascinated me. To use a typewriter well, you needed diligence; one wrong letter and the whole exercise had to be started all over again. We used something called typeX to erase our mistakes in those days, not to sniff out during math classes. But too much typesX in math classes or in typewriting is unacceptable. So we had to learn how to move your fingers accurately to make words out of thoughts with efficiency and do it over and over again till we got it just right. As an adult I have come to understand that there is nothing of more value, than your capacity for diligence and your ability to work hard. If you can outwork adversaries and your employees, you can ensure your own success. And whatever it is you choose to do, whatever you’re doing, do it once then do it one more time, even more carefully. Practice will make everything seem easier. Be diligent, be thorough. Think of every job you do as the first one, so you have to get it right or you won’t be able to impress everyone. And at the same time do it as your last job as if you will not get a chance to do it again ever. Don’t just workout, outwork yourself. Only parents clapping! In fact you can outwork yourself, if you cannot work yourself, then pretty much nothing can prevent you from learning.

My father gave me a camera, and the most beautiful thing about it was that it did not work. I learned that things don’t always have to be functional, to fulfill a need, that sometimes when things are broken, the greatest creativity emanates from the fragments. I found myself looking at my world magically through the unusable lens. And the fact that there was never any actual photograph to see, taught me my most important lesson yet; that creativity is a process of the soul. It does not need an outcome or a product for the world to accept. It needs only the truth of its own expression. It comes from within. And makes of your world, whatever you wish it to make. So don’t be afraid of your own creativity. Honor it. It doesn’t always have to be seen or approved by those around you. It is an expression of your deepest selves and it belongs as much to you as it does to the universe. That nurtures and inspires it. All creativity is not for everyone to like or understand. All art is not up for sale. Some creativity has a bigger role to play. It is to keep you company when you’re alone, when you need a friend, when the world doesn’t seem to understand you. Your creativity, whatever that may be, you know, I know a friend of mine who makes a dolls out of barf bags from airplanes. Whatever your creativity is, your creative will be the only thing that will keep you inspired and satisfied. Honour it to the end, whatever it may be. Mine is poetry. I write rubbish poetry. it’s so bad that sometimes I cringe to read it myself. it’s crap, but I write it, it’s my secret place. It is mine to make me feel free and happy. So you find yours and if the world loves it good, if it doesn’t, even better, because now you will truly have a friend to keep your creativity intact.

My father was a funny guy. He had the capacity to turn any kind of serious situation in a way that it seemed less stress filled, with a bit of humor. Without a sense of humor the world will always be a dull and greedy place. No darkness of despair should ever be beyond a good and a hearty laugh. I’m going to tell you a few incidents, if you’re not bored! I have got about seven and a half minutes left. We used to live on the third floor of an apartment building, and as people on third floor tend to do, my friends and I used to throw things down from the balcony; you know, wrappers, tit bits, dog shit wrapped in newspapers, the usual stuff. One day the old gentleman on the ground floor, for there’s always an old senile gentleman on the ground floor. He had had enough of our daily droppings. He charged at us yelling at the top of his voice “bhaisahaab, bhaisahaab, upar se cheezen neeche aati hai, upar se ceezen neeche aati hai” and you know the whole colony emerged to witness the spectacle. My father was there. I was mortified. And he kept screaming, “Upar se cheezen neeche aati hai“. My father calmly looked calmly at him and said, “Chacha ji, upar se cheezen neeche aati hain, ye Newton ne boht saalon pehle bataya tha. Aap koie nayi baat batao.  Andar baith ke, chai peeke baat krte hai”, and it instantly diffused the situation. The old man smiled, went into the apartment, worked out how dog shit needs to be disposed of properly, over a cup of tea in life was back to normal again.

 And there was another incident I’m going to relate. I had been eyeing this attractive, dusky girl who lived in our building. As smooth as I have always been with ladies, for some reason, it occurred to me that if I blew up her letter box with a Diwali cracker called, atom bomb, she’d be very impressed with me. I’ve always been good with girls like that, ya. I know things about girls. In this insanely romantic belief of mine, her letterbox soon exploded before her eyes. And I still don’t know why the desired effect of her running into my arms in slow-motion was replaced with a screaming drama in which he flew up the stairs screaming, “amma inge vaa, amma inge vaa”. I took my chance and as all macho men should do, I fled the scene. Few hours later the doorbell rang. I looked through the magic eye and the mother of the love of my life was standing outside looking incensed. I found a place to hide. My father opened the door. The lady began to rattle off a complaint; your son this, your son that (speaks in Tamil), my Tamil is not good! And he listened patiently and then responded, “You know ma’am, as you were speaking, I was getting angry with my son. But then I suddenly realized how beautiful you are. And I can imagine if your daughter looks anything like you, how can my son be blamed for falling in love with her and behaving so stupidly?” The lady went silent as my father continued telling her how beautiful she was, and then she became a little quiet. Another cup of tea was had and she said to me sweetly, “Beta, just because my daughter is so beautiful you shouldn’t behave badly with her. You should come home, sit with us, and be friends”. So not only did my dad get me off the hook, for blowing up the girls letter box, he actually got me in-roads to a long satisfying relationship with the love of her life that lasted six days. Because then I realize that dating beautiful girls has its downside. Every boy in the colony made advances at her. So I was regularly beaten up in my attempts to offer her some boy friendly protection. But that’s another story. The point being, learn to laugh at yourselves, every chance you get. If you can manage not to take yourself too seriously, no matter how big a shot you become or how lowly, useless, trivial you feel, you will instantly disarm life’s power to beat you down. It makes you braver to face ugliness, because it changes your perspective. Humor is actually the deftness to see the world, the reality, for the transient farce it really is. It’s like a talisman for survival. Cultivate it and allow it to lighten every heavy moment. Wear it like a vulgar tattoo, if you don’t already have one. Don’t ever let it get washed away in the turbulently beautiful seas of life. It’s your ticket to staying young and childlike forever. And you will realize why it matters to stay childlike when you’re my age. And you’ll watch this speech on YouTube with your children. I’ll probably have kicked the bucket by then, having smoked enough cigarettes to light up a forest. But I certainly hope that you will have understood what I understand now. No, not that smoking kills, but that part is ok.

Well, what I am referring to is, what counts as the most beautiful and final gift that my father gave me. I only realized it was a gift on the day he died, when I was 15 years old. A gift your parents have given to you already. Yes, the singularly most exquisite gift, you and I have been given is the gift of life itself. There is nothing that marks a man or a woman out from the ordinary, more perfectly than grace. Grace is the consciousness, that life is bigger than we are and therefore gratitude for it must match its vastness. It is the understanding, that everyone we encounter, whether they are loving towards us, or offensively abrasive, is a human like we are. It is knowing that experiences shape human beings and no matter how good we are at something, or successful we may become, we are never better than the other person. If you can live your life with grace towards those around you, you’ll accomplish more than you could if you became the president of America. That came out wrong, knowing that Donald Trump is so close to becoming the president of America! I didn’t mean that I’ll rephrase that guys. If you can live your life with grace towards those around you, “ok actually what the hell”, because I came and told you a secret that I like rubbish poetry I am going to read out a poem and end this. This this is the most rubbish poem you will hear. But keep it in the heart because I’m the damned chief guest tonight. If you’re after part, EDM. I thought it would be very cool if I use the word EDM. Is EDM still cool? Class of 2016 is it cool? No? Okay.

“If you’re after party EDM, stoned sunrise has found you,

with dark ship, wrappings, and friends that will not confound you.

And you start on this journey with a brave heart about you,

If you live life at grace towards those around you.

You’ll get where you have to and it won’t astound you.

If it isn’t Ferraris and a white house that downed you,

You won’t need an entourage to always surround you.

It’s your truth, you will have, that will shelter and ground you,

And you remember this day, as the day that unbound you.

 

From the walls of this beautiful school, and the teachers,

Exams and all the rules that sometimes seem to hound you, and let me tell you,

All will be successful let me remound you.”

So boys and girls, go forth, be free, have fun, make wrong choices, make mistakes. You will still succeed because the gift of education you have from this wonderful institution called Dhirubhai Ambani International School. The love meter has given you, and the genes that your parents have provided you with, will always look after you. And when you succeed don’t forget to thank your least favorite teacher, because he or she actually cared for you the most. Love you all and be happy.

Ken Burns: "You must do everything you can to defeat the retrograde forces that have invaded our democratic process", Stanford University - 2016

12 June 2016, Stanford University, Stanford, California, USA

President Hennessy, members of the Board of Trustees, distinguished faculty and staff, proud and relieved parents, calm and serene grandparents, distracted but secretly pleased siblings, ladies and gentlemen, graduating students of the Class of 2016, good morning. I am deeply honored and privileged that you have asked me here to say a few words at so momentous an occasion, that you might find what I have to say worthy of your attention on so important a day, especially one with such historical significance. One hundred and twenty-five years. Wow.

Thank you, too, for that generous introduction, President Hennessy. I always feel compelled, though, to inoculate myself against such praise by remembering that I have on my refrigerator at home an old and now faded cartoon, which shows two men standing in hell, the flames licking up around them. One guy says to the other, “Apparently my over 200 screen credits didn’t mean a damn thing.” They don’t, of course; there is much more meaning in your accomplishments, which we memorialize today.

I am in the business of memorializing – of history. It is not always a popular subject on college campuses today, particularly when, at times, it may seem to some an anachronistic and irrelevant pursuit, particularly with the ferocious urgency this moment seems to exert on us. It is my job, however, to remind people – with story, memory, anecdote and feeling – of the power our past also exerts, to help us better understand what’s going on now. It is my job to try to discern patterns and themes from history to enable us to interpret our dizzying, and sometimes dismaying, present. For nearly 40 years now, I have diligently practiced and rigorously maintained a conscious neutrality in my work, avoiding the advocacy of many of my colleagues, trying to speak to all of my fellow citizens.

Over those decades of historical documentary filmmaking, I have also come to the realization that history is not a fixed thing, a collection of precise dates, facts and events that add up to a quantifiable, certain, confidently known truth. History is a mysterious and malleable thing, constantly changing, not just as new information emerges, but as our own interests, emotions and inclinations change. Each generation rediscovers and reexamines that part of its past that gives its present new meaning, new possibility and new power. The question becomes for us now – for you especially – what will we choose as our inspiration? Which distant events and long dead figures will provide us with the greatest help, the most coherent context and the wisdom to go forward?

This is in part an existential question. None of us gets out of here alive. An exception will not be made in your case and you’ll live forever. You can’t actually design your life. (If you want to make God laugh, the saying goes, tell her your plans.) The hard times and vicissitudes of life will ultimately visit everyone. You will also come to realize that you are less defined by the good things that happen to you, your moments of happiness and apparent control, than you are by those misfortunes and unexpected challenges that, in fact, shape you more definitively, and help to solidify your true character – the measure of any human value. You, especially, know that the conversation that comes out of tragedy and injustice needs to be encouraged, emphasis on courage. It is through those conversations that we make progress.

A mentor of mine, the journalist Tom Brokaw, recently said to me, “What we learn is more important than what we set out to do.” It’s tough out there, but so beautiful, too. And history – memory – can prepare you.

I have a searing memory of the summer of 1962, when I was almost 9, joining our family dinner on a hot, sweltering day in a tract house in a development in Newark, Delaware, and seeing my mother crying. She had just learned, and my brother and I had just been told, that she would be dead of cancer within six months. But that’s not what was causing her tears. Our inadequate health insurance had practically bankrupted us, and our neighbors – equally struggling working people – had taken up a collection and presented my parents with six crisp $20 bills – $120 in total – enough to keep us solvent for more than a month. In that moment, I understood something about community and courage, about constant struggle and little victories. That hot June evening was a victory. And I have spent my entire professional life trying to resurrect small moments within the larger sweep of American history, trying to find our better angels in the most difficult of circumstances, trying to wake the dead, to hear their stories.

But how do we keep that realization of our own inevitable mortality from paralyzing us with fear? And how do we also keep our usual denial of this fact from depriving our lives and our actions of real meaning, of real purpose? This is our great human challenge, your challenge. This is where history can help. The past often offers an illuminating and clear-headed perspective from which to observe and reconcile the passions of the present moment, just when they threaten to overwhelm us. The history we know, the stories we tell ourselves, relieve that existential anxiety, allow us to live beyond our fleeting lifespans, and permit us to value and love and distinguish what is important. And the practice of history, both personal and professional, becomes a kind of conscience for us.

As a filmmaker, as a historian, as an American, I have been drawn continually to the life and example and words of Abraham Lincoln. He seems to get us better than we get ourselves. One hundred and fifty-eight years ago, in mid-June of 1858, Abraham Lincoln, running in what would be a failed bid for the United States Senate, at a time of bitter partisanship in our national politics, almost entirely over the issue of slavery, spoke to the Republican State Convention in the Illinois Statehouse in Springfield. His political party was brand new, born barely four years before with one single purpose in mind: to end the intolerable hypocrisy of chattel slavery that still existed in a country promoting certain unalienable rights to itself and the world.

He said, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”

Four and half years later, he was president, presiding over a country in the midst of the worst crisis in American history, our Civil War, giving his Annual Message to Congress, what we now call the State of the Union. The state of the Union was not good. His house was divided. But he also saw the larger picture. “The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise – with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew, and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country.”

And then he went on: “Fellow citizens, we cannot escape history. … The fiery trial through which we pass will light us down, in honor or dishonor, to the latest generation. We say we are for Union. The world will not forget that we say this. We know how to save the Union. … In giving freedom to the slave, we assure freedom to the free – honorable alike in what we give, and what we preserve. We shall nobly save, or meanly lose, the last best hope of earth.”

You are the latest generation he was metaphorically speaking about, and you are, whether you are yet aware of it or not, charged with saving our Union. The stakes are slightly different than the ones Lincoln faced – there is not yet armed rebellion – but they are just as high. And before you go out and try to live and shape the rest of your life, you are required now to rise, as Lincoln implored us, with the occasion.

You know, it is terribly fashionable these days to criticize the United States government, the institution Lincoln was trying to save, to blame it for all the ills known to humankind, and, my goodness, ladies and gentlemen, it has made more than its fair share of catastrophic mistakes. But you would be hard pressed to find – in all of human history – a greater force for good. From our Declaration of Independence to our Constitution and Bill of Rights; from Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation and the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, Fifteenth and Nineteenth Amendments to the Land Grant College and Homestead Acts; from the transcontinental railroad and our national parks to child labor laws, Social Security and the National Labor Relations Act; from the GI Bill and the interstate highway system to putting a man on the moon and the Affordable Care Act, the United States government has been the author of many of the best aspects of our public and personal lives. But if you tune in to politics, if you listen to the rhetoric of this election cycle, you are made painfully aware that everything is going to hell in a handbasket and the chief culprit is our evil government.

Part of the reason this kind of criticism sticks is because we live in an age of social media where we are constantly assured that we are all independent free agents. But that free agency is essentially unconnected to real community, divorced from civic engagement, duped into believing in our own lonely primacy by a sophisticated media culture that requires you – no, desperately needs you – to live in an all-consuming disposable present, wearing the right blue jeans, driving the right car, carrying the right handbag, eating at all the right places, blissfully unaware of the historical tides that have brought us to this moment, blissfully uninterested in where those tides might take us.

Our spurious sovereignty is reinforced and perpetually underscored to our obvious and great comfort, but this kind of existence actually ingrains in us a stultifying sameness that rewards conformity (not courage), ignorance and anti-intellectualism (not critical thinking). This wouldn’t be so bad if we were just wasting our own lives, but this year our political future depends on it. And there comes a time when I – and you – can no longer remain neutral, silent. We must speak up – and speak out.

For 216 years, our elections, though bitterly contested, have featured the philosophies and character of candidates who were clearly qualified. That is not the case this year. One is glaringly not qualified. So before you do anything with your well-earned degree, you must do everything you can to defeat the retrograde forces that have invaded our democratic process, divided our house, to fight against, no matter your political persuasion, the dictatorial tendencies of the candidate with zero experience in the much maligned but subtle art of governance; who is against lots of things, but doesn’t seem to be for anything, offering only bombastic and contradictory promises, and terrifying Orwellian statements; a person who easily lies, creating an environment where the truth doesn’t seem to matter; who has never demonstrated any interest in anyone or anything but himself and his own enrichment; who insults veterans, threatens a free press, mocks the handicapped, denigrates women, immigrants and all Muslims; a man who took more than a day to remember to disavow a supporter who advocates white supremacy and the Ku Klux Klan; an infantile, bullying man who, depending on his mood, is willing to discard old and established alliances, treaties and long-standing relationships. I feel genuine sorrow for the understandably scared and – they feel – powerless people who have flocked to his campaign in the mistaken belief that – as often happens on TV – a wand can be waved and every complicated problem can be solved with the simplest of solutions. They can’t. It is a political Ponzi scheme. And asking this man to assume the highest office in the land would be like asking a newly minted car driver to fly a 747.

As a student of history, I recognize this type. He emerges everywhere and in all eras. We see nurtured in his campaign an incipient proto-fascism, a nativist anti-immigrant Know Nothing-ism, a disrespect for the judiciary, the prospect of women losing authority over their own bodies, African Americans again asked to go to the back of the line, voter suppression gleefully promoted, jingoistic saber rattling, a total lack of historical awareness, a political paranoia that, predictably, points fingers, always making the other wrong. These are all virulent strains that have at times infected us in the past. But they now loom in front of us again – all happening at once. We know from our history books that these are the diseases of ancient and now fallen empires. The sense of commonwealth, of shared sacrifice, of trust, so much a part of American life, is eroding fast, spurred along and amplified by an amoral Internet that permits a lie to circle the globe three times before the truth can get started.

We no longer have the luxury of neutrality or “balance,” or even of bemused disdain. Many of our media institutions have largely failed to expose this charlatan, torn between a nagging responsibility to good journalism and the big ratings a media circus always delivers. In fact, they have given him the abundant airtime he so desperately craves, so much so that it has actually worn down our natural human revulsion to this kind of behavior. Hey, he’s rich; he must be doing something right. He is not. Edward R. Murrow would have exposed this naked emperor months ago. He is an insult to our history. Do not be deceived by his momentary “good behavior.” It is only a spoiled, misbehaving child hoping somehow to still have dessert.

And do not think that the tragedy in Orlando underscores his points. It does not. We must “disenthrall ourselves,” as Abraham Lincoln said, from the culture of violence and guns. And then “we shall save our country.”

This is not a liberal or conservative issue, a red state, blue state divide. This is an American issue. Many honorable people, including the last two Republican presidents, members of the party of Abraham Lincoln, have declined to support him. And I implore those “Vichy Republicans” who have endorsed him to please, please reconsider. We must remain committed to the kindness and community that are the hallmarks of civilization and reject the troubling, unfiltered Tourette’s of his tribalism.

The next few months of your “commencement,” that is to say, your future, will be critical to the survival of our Republic. “The occasion is piled high with difficulty.” Let us pledge here today that we will not let this happen to the exquisite, yet deeply flawed, land we all love and cherish – and hope to leave intact to our posterity. Let us “nobly save,” not “meanly lose, the last best hope of earth.”

Let me speak directly to the graduating class. Watch out. Here comes the advice.

Look. I am the father of four daughters. If someone tells you they’ve been sexually assaulted, take it effing seriously. And listen to them! Maybe, some day, we will make the survivor’s eloquent statement as important as Dr. King’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail.

Try not to make the other wrong, as I just did with that “presumptive” nominee. Be for something.

Be curious, not cool. Feed your soul, too. Every day.

Remember, insecurity makes liars of us all. Not just presidential candidates.

Don’t confuse success with excellence. The poet Robert Penn Warren once told me that “careerism is death.”

Do not descend too deeply into specialism either. Educate all of your parts. You will be healthier.

Free yourselves from the limitations of the binary world. It is just a tool. A means, not an end.

Seek out – and have – mentors. Listen to them. The late theatrical director Tyrone Guthrie once said, “We are looking for ideas large enough to be afraid of again.” Embrace those new ideas. Bite off more than you can chew.

Travel. Do not get stuck in one place. Visit our national parks. Their sheer majesty may remind you of your own “atomic insignificance,” as one observer noted, but in the inscrutable ways of Nature, you will feel larger, inspirited, just as the egotist in our midst is diminished by his or her self-regard.

Insist on heroes. And be one.

Read. The book is still the greatest manmade machine of all – not the car, not the TV, not the smartphone.

Make babies. One of the greatest things that will happen to you is that you will have to worry – I mean really worry – about someone other than yourself. It is liberating and exhilarating. I promise. Ask your parents.

Do not lose your enthusiasm. In its Greek etymology, the word enthusiasm means simply, “God in us.”

Serve your country. Insist that we fight the right wars. Convince your government, as Lincoln knew, that the real threat always and still comes from within this favored land. Governments always forget that.

Insist that we support science and the arts, especially the arts. They have nothing to do with the actual defense of our country – they just make our country worth defending.

Believe, as Arthur Miller told me in an interview for my very first film on the Brooklyn Bridge, “believe, that maybe you too could add something that would last and be beautiful.”

And vote. You indelibly underscore your citizenship – and our connection with each other – when you do.

Good luck. And Godspeed.

Jack Aiello: 'What we need is a cinnamon roll revolution!', Thomas Middle School - 2016

9 June 2016, Thomas Middle School, Illinois, USA

Hello everyone. I’ve decided that since we’re in the middle of an election year, I would do my graduation speech in the style of some of the 2016 presidential candidates, along with President Obama.

Let’s begin with Donald Trump

[As Trump]

Hello and congratulations you are now getting to hear a speech from the magnificent Donald Trump. And let me just tell you that Thomas has been such a great school, I mean, quite frankly, it’s been fantastic, I mean we have had so many great experiences here. You know one of those would have to be starting foreign language.

We’re learning languages from Spain, from France, from Germany, and China. And you know, people say I don’t like China,  I love China. I mean I have so many terrific friends in China. But I took Spanish, and let me tell you by the way, that it was fantastico. Moy fantastico.

And y’know, Foreign languages was one great thing, another one would have to be the showdown between the teachers themselves. We won in sixth grade, we won in seventh grade, but then we lost in eighth grade, but that’s okay, teachers, we’ll forgive you.

And let me just tell you by the way, if we have an entire team of Mr Craigs, who is fantastic by the way, he’s terrific. If we have an entire team of Mr Craigs,  we will win, and we will win, and believe me, we will win.

Infact quite frankly we will win so much you’ll be sick of winning.

And again, this is such a terrific crowd, and I know you’re all loving this speech, but I have to hand it off to Senator Ted Cruz.

[as Cruz]

Thank you Donald, Let me start by saying this. God bless the great school of Thomas. You know some of the greatest memories here at TMS were in the creative arts classes. Like in family and consumer science, baking the whacky chocolate cake, or sewing our very own miniature pellets. I had a Lamborghini on it, and I can assure you that that Lambhorgini is still a throw pillow on my bed, each and every day.

Or in music class, experimenting with the different tones of the boomwhackers. Or jamming on the ukuleles, creative arts unquestionably part of the great TMS memories.

And I know that President Obama shares some of the great feelings that I have about Thomas. Isn’t that right Mr President?

[As Obama]

You know, that right Ted. I’d like to start off by thanking our excellent Principal Mr Cate, he’s done a terrific job preparing us for high school. But back to the memories. Some of the greatest memories we had were gym class and PE. We diod all the regular sports you’d expect liek basketball and soccer, but we also did some unique ones too.

Like on rainy days we’d go into the small gym and do yoga.

And I am proud to say that I have completely mastered the downward dog.

You know we also did a unit entirely on dance. Dances like the Bavarian Shoe $. And we also did some Hawaiian dancing too. In fact I remember how one of the Hawaiian songs goes, it goes a little bit like this.

I wanna go back to my little grass hut,

Where all the old Hawaiians are singing [Hawaiian]

Aloha to that.

Anyway, TMS has given us some terrific memories, and now I’d like to pass it on to Secretary Clinton.

[As Hillary Clinton]

Thank you President Obama. I’d like to start off by thanking the great hardworking teachers of Thomas Middle School. They’ve been our champions. They’ve given us the skills we need to get through sixth grade and through seventh grade and eighth grade, and now we’re going to take those skills and apply them to high school.

And thanks to our teachers we have all the skills we need to succeed in this next chapter of our lives.

And they all deserve a big round of applause.

And I know that Senator Sanders agrees with me.

[As Bernie Sanders]

Yes I do agree with the Secretary.

And hello. Thank you for allowing me to speak to you today.

Let me start with the lunches they are delicious. Things like pizzas and tacos and chips, you name it! And some of the best cinnamon rolls I’ve ever tasted!

I do have one improvement for them though. We need to make them free!

Why should students have to pay for their own cinnamon rolls, doesn’t make any sense!

What we need is a cinnamon roll revolution!

You know another great experience would have to be going to Taft. Who can forget activities such as nightlight and cross country orienteering. Or indulging ourselves into some truly delicious meals like pot roast with noodles!

And finally to conclude this entire graduation speech. I would just like to say that the bottom line is this. As far as schools go, TMS is in the top one half of one half of one percent of schools, in the entire country!

Thank you all and congratulations to the class of 2016.

Donovan Livingston: 'We were born to be comets, Darting across space and time', Harvard University - 2016

25 May 2016, Harvard University, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

Education then, beyond all other devices of human origin,
Is a great equalizer of the conditions of men.” – Horace Mann, 1848.
At the time of his remarks I couldn’t read — couldn’t write.
Any attempt to do so, punishable by death.
For generations we have known of knowledge’s infinite power.
Yet somehow, we’ve never questioned the keeper of the keys —
The guardians of information.

Unfortunately, I’ve seen more dividing and conquering
In this order of operations — a heinous miscalculation of reality.
For some, the only difference between a classroom and a plantation is time.
How many times must we be made to feel like quotas —
Like tokens in coined phrases? —
“Diversity. Inclusion”
There are days I feel like one, like only —
A lonely blossom in a briar patch of broken promises.
But I’ve always been a thorn in the side of injustice.

Disruptive. Talkative. A distraction.
With a passion that transcends the confines of my consciousness —
Beyond your curriculum, beyond your standards.
I stand here, a manifestation of love and pain,
With veins pumping revolution.
I am the strange fruit that grew too ripe for the poplar tree.
I am a DREAM Act, Dream Deferred incarnate.
I am a movement – an amalgam of memories America would care to forget
My past, alone won’t allow me to sit still.
So my body, like the mind
Cannot be contained.

As educators, rather than raising your voices
Over the rustling of our chains,
Take them off. Un-cuff us.
Unencumbered by the lumbering weight
Of poverty and privilege,
Policy and ignorance.

I was in the 7th grade, when Ms. Parker told me,
“Donovan, we can put your excess energy to good use!”
And she introduced me to the sound of my own voice.
She gave me a stage. A platform.
She told me that our stories are ladders
That make it easier for us to touch the stars.
So climb and grab them.
Keep climbing. Grab them.
Spill your emotions in the big dipper and pour out your soul.
Light up the world with your luminous allure.

To educate requires Galileo-like patience.
Today, when I look my students in the eyes, all I see are constellations.
If you take the time to connect the dots,
You can plot the true shape of their genius —
Shining in their darkest hour.

I look each of my students in the eyes,
And see the same light that aligned Orion’s Belt
And the pyramids of Giza.
I see the same twinkle
That guided Harriet to freedom.
I see them. Beneath their masks and mischief,
Exists an authentic frustration;
An enslavement to your standardized assessments.

At the core, none of us were meant to be common.
We were born to be comets,
Darting across space and time —
Leaving our mark as we crash into everything.
A crater is a reminder that something amazing happened here —
An indelible impact that shook up the world.
Are we not astronomers — looking for the next shooting star?
I teach in hopes of turning content, into rocket ships —
Tribulations into telescopes,
So a child can see their potential from right where they stand.
An injustice is telling them they are stars
Without acknowledging night that surrounds them.
Injustice is telling them education is the key
While you continue to change the locks.

Education is no equalizer —
Rather, it is the sleep that precedes the American Dream.
So wake up — wake up! Lift your voices
Until you’ve patched every hole in a child’s broken sky.
Wake up every child so they know of their celestial potential.
I’ve been a Black hole in the classroom for far too long;
Absorbing everything, without allowing my light escape.
But those days are done. I belong among the stars.
And so do you. And so do they.
Together, we can inspire galaxies of greatness
For generations to come.
No, sky is not the limit. It is only the beginning.
Lift off.

John Green: 'To be an adult meant engaging in totally unironic conversations about the weather', Kenyon College - 2016

 21 May 2016, Kenyon College, USA

President Decatur, faculty, staff, parents, friends and members of Kenyon’s Class of 2016: Congratulations. To all of you.

Seventeen years ago, I was supposed to be graduating from Kenyon. It ended up taking me an extra semester, but I was in the audience that day with my friends and classmates. I remember nothing about the Commencement address except that it lasted ten thousand years. Empires rose and fell and still the speaker droned on, cicada-like in his monotony, so I come to you today with but one solemn promise: One way or another, this will be over in 14 minutes.

I want to spend one of those minutes, if you don’t mind, in silence. This is a trick I learned from the children’s TV host Fred Rogers. If you don’t mind, I’d like us all — not just the students but all of us — to close our eyes and think for a minute, just a minute, about the people who loved us up into this moment — family and friends, teachers and kind strangers. I’ll keep the time.

(Silence)

Those people, they are so proud of you right now. My thoughts turned inevitably back to my years at Kenyon, and to my professors, especially Don Rogan, who died this school year. Professor Rogan was a brilliant teacher, but I’ve forgotten much of what I learned in his classes about phenomenology and gospel redaction. What I remember most is that he loved me and that he took me seriously. He and his wife Sally welcomed me into their home, fed me, laughed with me, cried with me.

For many years, I wondered why he loved me — I was not a particularly good or committed student; I showed no special promise. And then, when he died, I saw the grief-stricken Facebook posts pour in from his old students, and I realized: He had loved us all.

Love is not like mass or energy — it is not conserved. And in the next 17 years, you will forget a lot, but you will not forget the kindness and generosity of those on this hilltop who were kinder and more generous than they needed to be.

So when I was a student here, there was widespread agreement among my peers that the so-called real world of proper adulthood was, basically, a disease you caught and then eventually died from. Adulthood, with its mortgages and spreadsheets and lawn maintenance, seemed to be a thing to be dreaded and resisted until finally it overtook you, like a zombie plague.

Once you acquired adulthood, you’d start saying things like, “Brand awareness in a fractured media landscape,” and, “We need a president who knows how to get things done.” To be an adult meant engaging in totally unironic conversations about the weather. I remember once, when I was at Kenyon, my grandmother called me to tell me that she was watching the Weather Channel and it looked like it was raining in Ohio. I explained to her that I was reading Ulysses, that I wasn’t even in Gambier but instead in Dublin, Ireland, in 1904, that history was a nightmare from which Dedalus was trying to awake, that nothing — literally nothing — mattered less than the current weather, and then after a moment she asked, “Well, is it raining or isn’t it?” To be an adult was to be a river rock blasted by an endless torrent of mundane terrors — from resume formatting to electricity bills — that would inevitably smooth all my hard edges until I looked and felt just like everything else.

Now this is the part of the Commencement address where I’m supposed to tell you that in fact adulthood isn’t so bad and blah blah blah but NO. NO. It is so bad. If anything, it is far worse than I could even have imagined. I mean, have you ever been to a homeowners’ association meeting? Each of you in the Class of 2016 is wondrous and precious and rare life in a vast and almost entirely dead universe — imagine devoting two hours of your bright but brief flicker of consciousness to a debate over whether the maximum allowable length of grass in your neighborhood’s front lawns should be 4 inches or 6.

But it’s true: You will debate grass length — or something equally stultifying. You will learn, almost against your will, the difference between whole and term life insurance. You will test-drive a minivan and find yourself surprised by the quality of its handling. And along the way, you’ll find yourself wondering: “Why am I doing this? Why am I doing any of this?”

And this, in my experience, is when your Kenyon education will come in very handy, because whether you’ve studied economics or anthropology, for the last four or, if you’re like me, five years you’ve been investigating what constitutes a fulfilling, successful human life. And I’d argue that actually is adulthood — like, maybe adulthood is not something you’ve spent your time at Kenyon preparing for; instead, maybe you’ve been doing it, albeit not on the minivan scale.

You are probably familiar with the old line that a liberal arts education teaches people how to think. But I think it mostly teaches you how to listen — in your classes and in your readings, you’ve been listening. You’ve listened to your professors and to your peers, but also to Toni Morrison and Jane Austen and John Milton as you all together examine the big questions of our species: What do we owe ourselves, and what do we owe others? What is the nature of the universe, and what is our role in it? How best might we alleviate the suffering within and without?

You learned about these questions at Kenyon, but you won’t leave them here. And while making your voice heard on those questions is vital, you’ve also learned here that your voice gets stronger the more you listen — not just listening to loud voices, but also to those that are hard to hear because they have been systemically silenced.

I hope that listening will help inoculate you from the seductive lies of our time — the lie that strength and toughness are always assets, that selfishness is not just necessary but desirable, that the whole world benefits most when you act in your own narrow self-interest.

That seductive lie is appealing because it allows us to go on doing what we would’ve been doing anyway, because it imagines a world in which I am what I feel myself to be: The exact center of the universe. But living for one’s self, even very successfully, will do absolutely nothing to fill the gasping void inside of you.

In my experience, that void gets filled not through strength but through weakness. You must be weak before the world, because love and listening weaken you. They make you vulnerable. They break you open. And it is only when you are weak that you can truly see and acknowledge and forgive and love the weakness in others. Weakness allows you to see other humans not as enemies to defeat, but as collaborators and co-creators. In the end, we’re making humanness up together as we go along.

At the homeowners’ association meeting, where the miserable adults are debating grass length, what they’re really doing is hashing out what kind of neighborhood they want to share. When you are deciding between whole and term life insurance, you’re actually thinking of a world without you, and how you might be helpful to those you leave behind. And how lucky you will be to leave people behind, to have been woven so deeply into the interconnected web of the human story.

All of it, actually — from the electricity bills to the job where your coworkers call themselves teammates even though this isn’t football for God’s sake — all these so-called horrors of adulthood emerge from living in a world where you are inextricably connected to other people to whom you must learn to listen. And that turns out to be great news. And if you can remember that conversations about grass length and the weather are really conversations about how we are going to get through, and how we are going to get through together, they become not just bearable but almost kind of transcendent.

One more way that listening will be of use to you: Over the next few days, you will straggle out of this strange and wonderful place, and enter a world where you will be, at least for a little while, manifestly weak. If you are lucky enough to have a job, it will likely involve fetching coffee for ungrateful bosses, or entering data, or writing press releases that no one reads. Some people will probably treat you as less than fully human, imagining you to be not the complex and multitudinous person you are but instead as an easily replaceable cog in the clockworks of their organization. All of that will be easier if you can see yourself not as the protagonist of your own heroic journey but instead as a collaborator in a massive, sprawling human epic.

I don’t remember anything said at my commencement address, but I do remember Wendy MacLeod’s speech the day before. Professor MacLeod, I apologize in advance for butchering your quote and for not swearing when you swore, but she said something like, “You are about to be a nobody. And that’s important, because when you become a somebody, if you can remember what it was like to be a nobody, you won’t be a jerk.” Looking back, I think that’s the second-best piece of advice I have ever received, behind only that given to me by Professor Rogan, who once told me — and this I can quote directly — “You’re a good kid, but you need to learn when to stop talking.”

So anyway, I’ll shut up momentarily. I can offer you no real advice on how to live a successful adult life. But I don’t need to. The people you thought of, during that minute of silence — they are who you want to be when you grow up. They have been strong for you, but also weak for you. They listened to you. They were irrationally, impossibly kind to you. It’s not just that you wouldn’t be here without them; you wouldn’t be without them. If they are here today, I hope you’ll take a second to thank them. If they aren’t here, they may call later, to ask you how it went. They may even ask what the weather was like. Tell them it was rainy, inexcusably cold for late May, and remember to ask if it is raining in their pocket of the world.

Thank you.  

Oliver Stone: 'Please don’t ever forget that Edward Snowden was 29 years old when he challenged this system on behalf of us all', UConn - 2016

7 May, 2016, University of Connecticut, USA

I thank you both, Dr. Herbst and Dr. Choi for bringing me. And I’d also like to thank Professor Frank Costigliola, of your History Department, who’s written a new book on the Cold War that greatly enlarges our understanding of a time when countries resorted, once again, to paranoid fears of invasion and subterfuge.

And I’d like to extend a BIG CONGRAGULATIONS to all of you -- the Class of 2016 -- on this wonderful achievement in your lives. Today is a great day. And also congratulations to your parents and relatives who are here to celebrate your evolution. Bravo!

I actually went to 4 different colleges in my life, so I’m not necessarily the best-suited speaker for this ceremony, (but I think you knew that when you invited me). My first college was down the road at Yale. In my class, among others, was George Bush, two Olympic gold-medal athletes, one pro football star, several future multi-millionaires and billionaires who now have a big say in our destiny, Pulitzer Prize winners, a future Secretary of State, etc, etc, what I’d call ‘the Obama School of Ivy League Geniuses’. But the truth for me was that Yale was so incredibly difficult academically, and competitive in all things, that my 4 grueling years of preparation at a boys’ boarding school in Pennsylvania were not sufficient to compete. And the freedom given by the College was far too liberal for my discipline. Basically, all of a sudden, we were on our own -- study when you want; eat, sleep when you want; do what you want. Go to New York City for a week, it doesn’t matter. No one really cares as long as you pass the course. That was the point, no one cared, there was no headmaster around to scare the shit out of you. I barely survived the first year, failed Greek, and just made it through the most abstract course I ever had -- Economics. And after trying, I also failed to make any of the serious athletic teams. I was just another mediocrity and I quit school, shaken and depressed.

I went to Asia, Vietnam specifically, for almost a year, to teach high school and work in the US Merchant Marine, as a ‘wiper’ in the South China Seas. Then I gave Yale another try for half a year, and again I was profoundly disappointed -- in myself. Mr. Bush could get Cs and party and get through it all. And with a pedigree, he could become President. But I had no pedigree. I think, more importantly, I couldn’t stand any longer the air of Ivy League superiority and competition. There was a lack, essentially, of humanity -- a compulsive need to out-do your fellow man. I wanted something gentler, something like I’d seen in Asia, an ability simply to breathe a natural life. So I abandoned school once again, but it was clear this time there was no going back. In fact, I’d failed every single one of my courses. That’s pretty hard to do, 4 out of 4 zeros.

Dad was pissed; some 9,000 in tuition (no tax deduction here) blown away. And what would I do for the rest of my life? He’d expected me to get to Wall Street at the least -- sort of as an ‘idiot son’ like Bush. Or, at worst, a steady job at AT&T in New York, starting at a couple hundred bucks a week. I went home and hid my face from my Dad’s friends, who’d known me as a promising, conservative young man. I was a BUM now -- in my eyes as well as Dad’s. I had no real skills or earning power. I decided I had nothing to lose, so I’d join the Army, specifically the Infantry, and go to the front lines in Vietnam. And if it was intended by the Greek gods, or the monotheistic God from the Bible -- either way -- I was putting it on the line. The divine forces would cast their decision, and I’d either live or die.

It was literally on my 21st birthday -- I suspect many of you here are 21 or close -- I was on a plane bound for Vietnam a second time -- all 120 of us in Army khaki with buzzcuts. I never even had a 21st birthday; as we crossed the International Date Line, my birthday dropped away into the sea as the calendar jumped a day. It was like an omen -- that I’d never get to 21. I’d be lost in some crack of time in Vietnam.

After 15 months of… let’s say another kind of world, I went back to the US with no idea of what to do and no skills except camping, surviving, hunting, and not sleeping very well. I’d taken a few electronics courses through a college extension program. I’d talked with some Army buddies about opening a construction company down in Alabama, or maybe Latin America, getting contracts from the Government -- all that fantasy died on the return, and my buddies went to other small towns and cities in the country. And rarely did we see each other again. This reality, along with something we didn’t know much about at the time, since called PTSD, left us each in some dark holes. People simply didn’t understand because that war was crazy and made no sense. How can you explain it when it makes no sense?

After months of low-level depression, an old school friend who’d graduated from Yale was pursuing a career making low-budget porno films -- and making money at it; he told me I could actually go to one of these new “film schools”, and I could get 80% of my tuition paid from the GI Bill. It sounded nuts to me. “You mean I can actually get credit for watching movies all day?” It was too good to be true, but it was a new world. There were respected schools in California -- but now NYU had one too. So I thank you -- I mean it -- the US Government.

But it was really a vocational school for me. I was older than the others. It was difficult for me to readjust to the mentality. I was quiet and didn’t mingle much. These students were in another world, and they probably looked at me like I was the guy in “Taxi Driver” who ends up blowing up the class.

But I had fun there. I also learned the beginnings of a skill. And then after 6/7 years of professional rejection and writing a lot of speculative scripts, making low-budget films, breaks started coming my way, and I actually made it into the film business with some success. In fact, much to my Father’s inability to think it possible, I actually started to make a living at this film thing.

I think a point to be made of this experience is no matter how dark it gets early, don’t get too down on yourself. You have -- you may not know them -- hidden talents, skills, passions. You simply cannot recognize it yet. So listen to the wind. The answer might be blowing right past you... But although I now had a degree and some success, I didn’t really have an education. Learning a trade is not a complete experience. I was a partly educated writer-director who’d never really studied with any rigor history, mathematics, English, science. All I had was curiosity, and thank god for that.

So almost 40 years later, like Rodney Dangerfield in “Back to School”, in 2008 I went to my 3rd college -- not your normal campus with the bells beautifully tolling and the cries of young people in the air -- but a concentrated 5-year journey through American history from the 1890s to today. Guiding me was a highly intelligent mentor and professor at American University, and his staff of graduate students. (In fact, he’s here today, my co-author of “The Untold History of the United States”, Professor Peter Kuznick, who’s been teaching for 30 years). I learned a lot -- too much in many ways to function well in this culture. I learned how to check and recheck everything -- every little detail. I learned how to doubt and cross-examine myself. It took us almost 5 years and many drafts and edits to make our incredible thesis entertaining enough for a wide audience uninterested in history, able to watch it on a prestige cable company or read the 700-page book we wrote to back it up. That millions watched it and continued to watch it for ten weeks, and that it made the ‘New York Times’ Bestseller List, and that it was sold in many countries in the world -- and that we traveled to numerous colleges and high schools to share it, was proof enough to me that I’d finally earned, my self-declared and really proud-of-it college degree in History. And why not? The thing that people don’t realize is that history can be fun, that the narrative can be taught with great sweep and power like a movie, not a museum. Nor need it be a ‘Walt Disney movie’ of American history the way it’s taught now, which is mostly a pat on the back for being a great and special country -- singular in history and particularly blessed by God. That’s why young people have so often turned away from American history. They can smell Lies and Hypocrisy.

Well, needless to say, it was quite controversial and often ignored because that’s the price you pay to say something strong in this country. I’m proud to tell you our mainstream media blasted it or ignored it because that’s the same media -- you know them, all the ‘biggies’ -- that since Vietnam have helped cheer us on into so many pathetic wars without any purpose or validity, and yet have never apologized for their mistakes. And then a few years later they move on and recommend another set of disastrous choices that lead to war. Where did this ongoing delusion start? This was the main point of our series -- and why so many progressive historians praised it as a work that brought an entire century into one tent with its recurring pattern of militarism, false patriotism, racism, sexism, and financial greed (revealed).

All because we never really learned from our past. Because we never looked deeply in elementary or high school, and we went with this mythology that we were somehow exceptional and outside history. And, as a result over time, our memories became clouded, the history distorted by the politics of the powerful school boards in Texas and California. And over those 80 years since World War II, we began, on a grand scale, to truly lose our collective memory of what we’ve done in the world without recognizing the consequences (or apologizing), including the militarily unnecessary atomic bombing of Japan. As a result your generation suffers all the consequences of this. And you accept that, since 9/11, a policy of unending war is necessary and endurable. Policies of torture, detention, drones and undeclared wars, interfering in the affairs of every country in the world and declaring unilateral “regime change” as if we were gods, has given us an overwhelming arrogance that lives inside the skin and brain of the power elite in Washington, DC -- the feeling that the State itself has the right over its own citizenry to break the laws as it chooses, and most egregiously violate the 4th and 5th Amendments in the name of defending our National Security. In doing that we lose sight that security at any cost is a prison for all of us without end -- a panopticon that cows us all to surrender our sense of protest, of individuality, of privacy itself to this anonymous secret state that has eyes on all of us. This is the triumph of force over liberty, this is naked fascism, dress it however you like! -- and this has nothing to do with the country I was born in and went to war for as a young, conservative man.

Please don’t ever forget that Edward Snowden was 29 years old when he challenged this system on behalf of us all -- just a few years older than you. He’s an avatar for your generation. Do not be cynical and say, ‘Privacy? So what? I have nothing to hide.’ Because when you’re older you might understand what you’re surrendering without knowing it is your greatest secret of all -- yourself.

I told you I went to 4 colleges, but maybe I exaggerated a bit. Because the fourth college is one you never graduate from. For want of better words, I’d call it the ‘College of Older Age’. It’s the toughest of all because it makes you question -- everything. It teaches to those who listen the necessity for ambiguity in life’s grayer matters, nothing being black or white -- and it humbles us in ways we have never been before.

I’m sure in your lifetime you’ll see things we never thought would happen, as we were surprised by these wars, JFK/RFK/MLK assassinations, the theft of the 2000 election, 9/11, the incorporation of the Citizens United Supreme Court decision, allowing money once again to suffocate our voices. More will happen to you, in the same way that everybody through the centuries feels that theirs is the most important time of all. But I still believe that we’ve been given a divine blessing to be alive in this world. And I believe the purpose of our journey is to grow our consciousness, our tolerance, and finally our love. This purpose allows us also to act badly at times, to indulge ourselves, and hopefully discover both our mistakes and our regrets. And with it comes an allowance for our weakness and strength because both are so similar. Enjoy what you can.

And in closing, I’d suggest you take a year off and do nothing! Be a bum -- or do something you’ve never done before. If you choose nothing, see for yourself if being a lazy person works for you or it bores you. Sit on a bench, walk around, fish. But go to the end of that feeling and find out for yourself. Be a janitor. Clean hotel rooms. Work with your hands. Learn how to plant, grow, cook. Travel to foreign countries second/third class and see how you relate to all kinds people and challenges. Above all, even if you want to make a fortune as quickly as you can, I urge you to break your pattern here and now, and don’t do what you did for 4 years.

So, go in peace, love justice and mercy -- and do well by this world. Thank you.

Barack Obama: 'Don't lose hope in the face of naysayers', Rutgers University - 2016

15 May 2016, Rutgers State University, Brunswick, New Jersey, USA

Hello Rutgers!  (Applause.)  R-U rah-rah!  (Applause.)  Thank you so much.  Thank you.  Everybody, please have a seat.  Thank you, President Barchi, for that introduction. Let me congratulate my extraordinarily worthy fellow honorary Scarlet Knights, Dr. Burnell and Bill Moyers.  

Matthew, good job.  (Applause.)  If you are interested, we can talk after this.  (Applause.)        

One of the perks of my job is honorary degrees.  (Laughter.) But I have to tell you, it impresses nobody in my house.  (Laughter.)  Now Malia and Sasha just say, “Okay, Dr. Dad, we’ll see you later.  Can we have some money?”  (Laughter.) 

To the Board of Governors; to Chairman Brown; to Lieutenant Governor Guadagno; Mayor Cahill; Mayor Wahler, members of Congress, Rutgers administrators, faculty, staff, friends, and family -- thank you for the honor of joining you for the 250th anniversary of this remarkable institution.  (Applause.)  But most of all, congratulations to the Class of 2016!  (Applause.)    
I come here for a simple reason -- to finally settle this pork roll vs. Taylor ham question.  (Laughter and applause.)  I'm just kidding.  (Laughter.)  There’s not much I’m afraid to take on in my final year of office, but I know better than to get in the middle of that debate.  (Laughter.)   

The truth is, Rutgers, I came here because you asked.  (Applause.)  Now, it's true that a lot of schools invite me to their commencement every year.  But you are the first to launch a three-year campaign.  (Laughter.)  Emails, letters, tweets, YouTube videos.  I even got three notes from the grandmother of your student body president.  (Laughter.)  And I have to say that really sealed the deal.  That was smart, because I have a soft spot for grandmas.  (Laughter.)   

So I'm here, off Exit 9, on the banks of the Old Raritan -- (applause) -- at the site of one of the original nine colonial colleges.  (Applause.)  Winners of the first-ever college football game.  (Applause.)  One of the newest members of the Big Ten.  (Applause.)  Home of what I understand to be a Grease Truck for a Fat Sandwich.  (Applause.)  Mozzarella sticks and chicken fingers on your cheesesteaks -- (applause.)  I’m sure Michelle would approve.  (Laughter.)    

But somehow, you have survived such death-defying acts.  (Laughter.)  You also survived the daily jockeying for buses, from Livingston to Busch, to Cook, to Douglass, and back again.  (Applause.)  I suspect that a few of you are trying to survive this afternoon, after a late night at Olde Queens.  (Applause.)  You know who you are.  (Laughter.)     

But, however you got here, you made it.  You made it.  Today, you join a long line of Scarlet Knights whose energy and intellect have lifted this university to heights its founders could not have imagined.  Two hundred and fifty years ago, when America was still just an idea, a charter from the Royal Governor -- Ben Franklin’s son -- established Queen’s College.  A few years later, a handful of students gathered in a converted tavern for the first class.  And from that first class in a pub, Rutgers has evolved into one of the finest research institutions in America.  (Applause.)    

This is a place where you 3D-print prosthetic hands for children, and devise rooftop wind arrays that can power entire office buildings with clean, renewable energy.  Every day, tens of thousands of students come here, to this intellectual melting pot, where ideas and cultures flow together among what might just be America’s most diverse student body.  (Applause.)  Here in New Brunswick, you can debate philosophy with a classmate from South Asia in one class, and then strike up a conversation on the EE Bus with a first-generation Latina student from Jersey City, before sitting down for your psych group project with a veteran who’s going to school on the Post-9/11 GI Bill.  (Applause.)  

America converges here.  And in so many ways, the history of Rutgers mirrors the evolution of America -- the course by which we became bigger, stronger, and richer and more dynamic, and a more inclusive nation.  

But America’s progress has never been smooth or steady.  Progress doesn’t travel in a straight line.  It zigs and zags in fits and starts.  Progress in America has been hard and contentious, and sometimes bloody.  It remains uneven and at times, for every two steps forward, it feels like we take one step back.  

Now, for some of you, this may sound like your college career.  (Laughter.)  It sounds like mine, anyway.  (Laughter.)  Which makes sense, because measured against the whole of human history, America remains a very young nation -- younger, even, than this university.

But progress is bumpy.  It always has been.  But because of dreamers and innovators and strivers and activists, progress has been this nation’s hallmark.  I’m fond of quoting Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.”  (Applause.)  It bends towards justice.  I believe that.  But I also believe that the arc of our nation, the arc of the world does not bend towards justice, or freedom, or equality, or prosperity on its own.  It depends on us, on the choices we make, particularly at certain inflection points in history; particularly when big changes are happening and everything seems up for grabs.

And, Class of 2016, you are graduating at such an inflection point.  Since the start of this new millennium, you’ve already witnessed horrific terrorist attacks, and war, and a Great Recession.  You’ve seen economic and technological and cultural shifts that are profoundly altering how we work and how we communicate, how we live, how we form families.  The pace of change is not subsiding; it is accelerating.  And these changes offer not only great opportunity, but also great peril. 

Fortunately, your generation has everything it takes to lead this country toward a brighter future.  I’m confident that you can make the right choices -- away from fear and division and paralysis, and toward cooperation and innovation and hope.  (Applause.)  Now, partly, I’m confident because, on average, you’re smarter and better educated than my generation -- although we probably had better penmanship -- (laughter) -- and were certainly better spellers.  We did not have spell-check back in my day.  You’re not only better educated, you’ve been more exposed to the world, more exposed to other cultures.  You’re more diverse.  You’re more environmentally conscious.  You have a healthy skepticism for conventional wisdom.  

So you’ve got the tools to lead us.  And precisely because I have so much confidence in you, I’m not going to spend the remainder of my time telling you exactly how you’re going to make the world better.  You’ll figure it out.  You’ll look at things with fresher eyes, unencumbered by the biases and blind spots and inertia and general crankiness of your parents and grandparents and old heads like me.  But I do have a couple of suggestions that you may find useful as you go out there and conquer the world. 

Point number one:  When you hear someone longing for the “good old days,” take it with a grain of salt.  (Laughter and applause.)  Take it with a grain of salt.  We live in a great nation and we are rightly proud of our history.  We are beneficiaries of the labor and the grit and the courage of generations who came before.  But I guess it's part of human nature, especially in times of change and uncertainty, to want to look backwards and long for some imaginary past when everything worked, and the economy hummed, and all politicians were wise, and every kid was well-mannered, and America pretty much did whatever it wanted around the world.  

Guess what.  It ain’t so.  (Laughter.)  The “good old days” weren’t that great.  Yes, there have been some stretches in our history where the economy grew much faster, or when government ran more smoothly.  There were moments when, immediately after World War II, for example, or the end of the Cold War, when the world bent more easily to our will.  But those are sporadic, those moments, those episodes.  In fact, by almost every measure, America is better, and the world is better, than it was 50 years ago, or 30 years ago, or even eight years ago.  (Applause.)    

And by the way, I'm not -- set aside 150 years ago, pre-Civil War -- there’s a whole bunch of stuff there we could talk about.  Set aside life in the ‘50s, when women and people of color were systematically excluded from big chunks of American life.  Since I graduated, in 1983 -- which isn't that long ago -- (laughter) -- I'm just saying.  Since I graduated, crime rates, teenage pregnancy, the share of Americans living in poverty -- they’re all down.  The share of Americans with college educations have gone way up.  Our life expectancy has, as well.  Blacks and Latinos have risen up the ranks in business and politics.  (Applause.)  More women are in the workforce.  (Applause.)  They’re earning more money -- although it’s long past time that we passed laws to make sure that women are getting the same pay for the same work as men.  (Applause.)    

Meanwhile, in the eight years since most of you started high school, we’re also better off.  You and your fellow graduates are entering the job market with better prospects than any time since 2007.  Twenty million more Americans know the financial security of health insurance.  We’re less dependent on foreign oil.  We’ve doubled the production of clean energy.  We have cut the high school dropout rate.  We've cut the deficit by two-thirds.  Marriage equality is the law of the land.  (Applause.)    

And just as America is better, the world is better than when I graduated.  Since I graduated, an Iron Curtain fell, apartheid ended.  There’s more democracy.  We virtually eliminated certain diseases like polio.  We’ve cut extreme poverty drastically.  We've cut infant mortality by an enormous amount.  (Applause.)    
Now, I say all these things not to make you complacent.  We’ve got a bunch of big problems to solve.  But I say it to point out that change has been a constant in our history.  And the reason America is better is because we didn’t look backwards we didn’t fear the future.  We seized the future and made it our own.  And that’s exactly why it’s always been young people like you that have brought about big change -- because you don't fear the future.  

That leads me to my second point:  The world is more interconnected than ever before, and it’s becoming more connected every day.  Building walls won’t change that.  (Applause.)    

Look, as President, my first responsibility is always the security and prosperity of the United States.  And as citizens, we all rightly put our country first.  But if the past two decades have taught us anything, it’s that the biggest challenges we face cannot be solved in isolation.  (Applause.)  When overseas states start falling apart, they become breeding grounds for terrorists and ideologies of nihilism and despair that ultimately can reach our shores.  When developing countries don’t have functioning health systems, epidemics like Zika or Ebola can spread and threaten Americans, too.  And a wall won't stop that. (Applause.)    

If we want to close loopholes that allow large corporations and wealthy individuals to avoid paying their fair share of taxes, we’ve got to have the cooperation of other countries in a global financial system to help enforce financial laws.  The point is, to help ourselves we’ve got to help others -- (applause) -- not pull up the drawbridge and try to keep the world out. (Applause.)   

And engagement does not just mean deploying our military.  There are times where we must take military action to protect ourselves and our allies, and we are in awe of and we are grateful for the men and women who make up the finest fighting force the world has ever known.  (Applause.)  But I worry if we think that the entire burden of our engagement with the world is up to the 1 percent who serve in our military, and the rest of us can just sit back and do nothing.  They can't shoulder the entire burden.  And engagement means using all the levers of our national power, and rallying the world to take on our shared challenges.  

You look at something like trade, for example.  We live in an age of global supply chains, and cargo ships that crisscross oceans, and online commerce that can render borders obsolete.  And a lot of folks have legitimate concerns with the way globalization has progressed -- that's one of the changes that's been taking place -- jobs shipped overseas, trade deals that sometimes put workers and businesses at a disadvantage.  But the answer isn’t to stop trading with other countries.  In this global economy, that’s not even possible.  The answer is to do trade the right way, by negotiating with other countries so that they raise their labor standards and their environmental standards; and we make sure they don’t impose unfair tariffs on American goods or steal American intellectual property.  That’s how we make sure that international rules are consistent with our values -- including human rights.  And ultimately, that's how we help raise wages here in America.  That’s how we help our workers compete on a level playing field.  

Building walls won't do that. (Applause.)  It won't boost our economy, and it won’t enhance our security either.  Isolating or disparaging Muslims, suggesting that they should be treated differently when it comes to entering this country -- (applause) -- that is not just a betrayal of our values -- (applause) -- that's not just a betrayal of who we are, it would alienate the very communities at home and abroad who are our most important partners in the fight against violent extremism.   Suggesting that we can build an endless wall along our borders, and blame our challenges on immigrants -- that doesn’t just run counter to our history as the world’s melting pot; it contradicts the evidence that our growth and our innovation and our dynamism has always been spurred by our ability to attract strivers from every corner of the globe.  That's how we became America.  Why would we want to stop it now?  (Applause.)    

AUDIENCE MEMBER:  Four more years!

THE PRESIDENT:  Can't do it.  (Laughter.) 

Which brings me to my third point:  Facts, evidence, reason, logic, an understanding of science -- these are good things.  (Applause.)  These are qualities you want in people making policy.  These are qualities you want to continue to cultivate in yourselves as citizens.  (Applause.)  That might seem obvious. (Laughter.)  That's why we honor Bill Moyers or Dr. Burnell.

We traditionally have valued those things.  But if you were listening to today’s political debate, you might wonder where this strain of anti-intellectualism came from.  (Applause.)  So, Class of 2016, let me be as clear as I can be.  In politics and in life, ignorance is not a virtue.  (Applause.)  It's not cool to not know what you're talking about.  (Applause.)  That's not keeping it real, or telling it like it is.  (Laughter.)  That's not challenging political correctness.  That's just not knowing what you're talking about.  (Applause.)  And yet, we've become confused about this.          

Look, our nation’s Founders -- Franklin, Madison, Hamilton, Jefferson -- they were born of the Enlightenment.  They sought to escape superstition, and sectarianism, and tribalism, and no-nothingness.  (Applause.)  They believed in rational thought and experimentation, and the capacity of informed citizens to master our own fates.  That is embedded in our constitutional design.  That spirit informed our inventors and our explorers, the Edisons and the Wright Brothers, and the George Washington Carvers and the Grace Hoppers, and the Norman Borlaugs and the Steve Jobses.  That's what built this country.

And today, in every phone in one of your pockets -- (laughter) -- we have access to more information than at any time in human history, at a touch of a button.  But, ironically, the flood of information hasn’t made us more discerning of the truth. In some ways, it’s just made us more confident in our ignorance. (Applause.)  We assume whatever is on the web must be true.  We search for sites that just reinforce our own predispositions. Opinions masquerade as facts.  The wildest conspiracy theories are taken for gospel.  

Now, understand, I am sure you’ve learned during your years of college -- and if not, you will learn soon -- that there are a whole lot of folks who are book smart and have no common sense.  (Applause.)  That's the truth.  You’ll meet them if you haven't already.  (Laughter.)  So the fact that they’ve got a fancy degree -- you got to talk to them to see whether they know what they’re talking about.  (Laughter.)  Qualities like kindness and compassion, honesty, hard work -- they often matter more than technical skills or know-how.  (Applause.)    

But when our leaders express a disdain for facts, when they’re not held accountable for repeating falsehoods and just making stuff up, while actual experts are dismissed as elitists, then we’ve got a problem.  (Applause.)  

You know, it's interesting that if we get sick, we actually want to make sure the doctors have gone to medical school, they know what they’re talking about.  (Applause.)  If we get on a plane, we say we really want a pilot to be able to pilot the plane.  (Laughter.)  And yet, in our public lives, we certainly think, “I don't want somebody who’s done it before.”  (Laughter and applause.)  The rejection of facts, the rejection of reason and science -- that is the path to decline.  It calls to mind the words of Carl Sagan, who graduated high school here in New Jersey -- (applause) -- he said:  “We can judge our progress by the courage of our questions and the depths of our answers, our willingness to embrace what is true rather than what feels good.” 

The debate around climate change is a perfect example of this.  Now, I recognize it doesn’t feel like the planet is warmer right now.  (Laughter.)  I understand.  There was hail when I landed in Newark.  (Laughter.)  (The wind starts blowing hard.)  (Laughter.)   But think about the climate change issue.  Every day, there are officials in high office with responsibilities who mock the overwhelming consensus of the world’s scientists that human activities and the release of carbon dioxide and methane and other substances are altering our climate in profound and dangerous ways.  

A while back, you may have seen a United States senator trotted out a snowball during a floor speech in the middle of winter as “proof” that the world was not warming.  (Laughter.)  I mean, listen, climate change is not something subject to political spin.  There is evidence.  There are facts.  We can see it happening right now.  (Applause.)  If we don’t act, if we don't follow through on the progress we made in Paris, the progress we've been making here at home, your generation will feel the brunt of this catastrophe.  

So it’s up to you to insist upon and shape an informed debate.  Imagine if Benjamin Franklin had seen that senator with the snowball, what he would think.  Imagine if your 5th grade science teacher had seen that.  (Laughter.)  He’d get a D.  (Laughter.)  And he’s a senator!  (Laughter.)

Look, I'm not suggesting that cold analysis and hard data are ultimately more important in life than passion, or faith, or love, or loyalty.  I am suggesting that those highest expressions of our humanity can only flourish when our economy functions well, and proposed budgets add up, and our environment is protected.  And to accomplish those things, to make collective decisions on behalf of a common good, we have to use our heads.  We have to agree that facts and evidence matter.  And we got to hold our leaders and ourselves accountable to know what the heck they’re talking about.  (Applause.)    

All right.  I only have two more points.  I know it's getting cold and you guys have to graduate.  (Laughter.)  Point four:  Have faith in democracy.  Look, I know it’s not always pretty.   Really, I know.  (Laughter.)  I've been living it.  But it’s how, bit by bit, generation by generation, we have made progress in this nation.  That's how we banned child labor.  That's how we cleaned up our air and our water.  That's how we passed programs like Social Security and Medicare that lifted millions of seniors out of poverty.  (Applause.)    

None of these changes happened overnight.  They didn’t happen because some charismatic leader got everybody suddenly to agree on everything.  It didn’t happen because some massive political revolution occurred.  It actually happened over the course of years of advocacy, and organizing, and alliance-building, and deal-making, and the changing of public opinion.  It happened because ordinary Americans who cared participated in the political process.   

AUDIENCE MEMBER:  Because of you!  (Applause.)  

THE PRESIDENT:  Well, that's nice.  I mean, I helped, but -- (applause.)

Look, if you want to change this country for the better, you better start participating.  I'll give you an example on a lot of people’s minds right now -- and that’s the growing inequality in our economy.  Over much of the last century, we’ve unleashed the strongest economic engine the world has ever seen, but over the past few decades, our economy has become more and more unequal.  The top 10 percent of earners now take in half of all income in the U.S.  In the past, it used to be a top CEO made 20 or 30 times the income of the average worker.  Today, it’s 300 times more.  And wages aren’t rising fast enough for millions of hardworking families.  

Now, if we want to reverse those trends, there are a bunch of policies that would make a real difference.  We can raise the minimum wage.  (Applause.)  We can modernize our infrastructure. We can invest in early childhood education.  We can make college more affordable.  (Applause.)  We can close tax loopholes on hedge fund managers and take that money and give tax breaks to help families with child care or retirement.  And if we did these things, then we’d help to restore the sense that hard work is rewarded and we could build an economy that truly works for everybody.  (Applause.)  

Now, the reason some of these things have not happened, even though the majority of people approve of them, is really simple. It's not because I wasn’t proposing them.  It wasn’t because the facts and the evidence showed they wouldn't work.  It was because a huge chunk of Americans, especially young people, do not vote. 

In 2014, voter turnout was the lowest since World War II.  Fewer than one in five young people showed up to vote -- 2014.  And the four who stayed home determined the course of this country just as much as the single one who voted.  Because apathy has consequences.  It determines who our Congress is.  It determines what policies they prioritize.  It even, for example, determines whether a really highly qualified Supreme Court nominee receives the courtesy of a hearing and a vote in the United States Senate.  (Applause.)    

And, yes, big money in politics is a huge problem.  We've got to reduce its influence.  Yes, special interests and lobbyists have disproportionate access to the corridors of power. But, contrary to what we hear sometimes from both the left as well as the right, the system isn’t as rigged as you think, and it certainly is not as hopeless as you think.  Politicians care about being elected, and they especially care about being reelected.  And if you vote and you elect a majority that represents your views, you will get what you want.  And if you opt out, or stop paying attention, you won’t.  It’s that simple. (Applause.)  It's not that complicated. 

Now, one of the reasons that people don’t vote is because they don’t see the changes they were looking for right away.  Well, guess what -- none of the great strides in our history happened right away.  It took Thurgood Marshall and the NAACP decades to win Brown v. Board of Education; and then another decade after that to secure the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act.  (Applause.)  And it took more time after that for it to start working.  It took a proud daughter of New Jersey, Alice Paul, years of organizing marches and hunger strikes and protests, and drafting hundreds of pieces of legislation, and writing letters and giving speeches, and working with congressional leaders before she and other suffragettes finally helped win women the right to vote.  (Applause.)  

Each stage along the way required compromise.  Sometimes you took half a loaf.  You forged allies.  Sometimes you lost on an issue, and then you came back to fight another day.  That’s how democracy works.  So you’ve got to be committed to participating not just if you get immediate gratification, but you got to be a citizen full-time, all the time.    

And if participation means voting, and it means compromise, and organizing and advocacy, it also means listening to those who don’t agree with you.  I know a couple years ago, folks on this campus got upset that Condoleezza Rice was supposed to speak at a commencement.  Now, I don't think it's a secret that I disagree with many of the foreign policies of Dr. Rice and the previous administration.  But the notion that this community or the country would be better served by not hearing from a former Secretary of State, or shutting out what she had to say -- I believe that’s misguided.  (Applause.)  I don't think that's how democracy works best, when we're not even willing to listen to each other.  (Applause.)  I believe that's misguided.  

If you disagree with somebody, bring them in -- (applause) -- and ask them tough questions.  Hold their feet to the fire.  Make them defend their positions.  (Applause.)  If somebody has got a bad or offensive idea, prove it wrong.  Engage it.  Debate it.  Stand up for what you believe in.  (Applause.)  Don't be scared to take somebody on.  Don't feel like you got to shut your ears off because you're too fragile and somebody might offend your sensibilities.  Go at them if they’re not making any sense. Use your logic and reason and words.  And by doing so, you’ll strengthen your own position, and you’ll hone your arguments.  And maybe you’ll learn something and realize you don't know everything.  And you may have a new understanding not only about what your opponents believe but maybe what you believe.  Either way, you win.  And more importantly, our democracy wins.  (Applause.)  

So, anyway, all right.  That's it, Class of 2016 -- (laughter) -- a few suggestions on how you can change the world. Except maybe I've got one last suggestion.  (Applause.)  Just one.  And that is, gear yourself for the long haul.  Whatever path you choose -- business, nonprofits, government, education, health care, the arts -- whatever it is, you're going to have some setbacks.  You will deal occasionally with foolish people.  You will be frustrated.  You’ll have a boss that's not great.  You won’t always get everything you want -- at least not as fast as you want it.  So you have to stick with it.  You have to be persistent.  And success, however small, however incomplete, success is still success.  I always tell my daughters, you know, better is good.  It may not be perfect, it may not be great, but it's good.  That's how progress happens -- in societies and in our own lives.  

So don’t lose hope if sometimes you hit a roadblock.  Don't lose hope in the face of naysayers.  And certainly don’t let resistance make you cynical.  Cynicism is so easy, and cynics don’t accomplish much.  As a friend of mine who happens to be from New Jersey, a guy named Bruce Springsteen, once sang -- (applause) -- “they spend their lives waiting for a moment that just don’t come.”  Don’t let that be you.  Don’t waste your time waiting.  

If you doubt you can make a difference, look at the impact some of your fellow graduates are already making.  Look at what Matthew is doing.  Look at somebody like Yasmin Ramadan, who began organizing anti-bullying assemblies when she was 10 years old to help kids handle bias and discrimination, and here at Rutgers, helped found the Muslim Public Relations Council to work with administrators and police to promote inclusion.  (Applause.)    

Look at somebody like Madison Little, who grew up dealing with some health issues, and started wondering what his care would have been like if he lived someplace else, and so, here at Rutgers, he took charge of a student nonprofit and worked with folks in Australia and Cambodia and Uganda to address the AIDS epidemic.  “Our generation has so much energy to adapt and impact the world,” he said.  “My peers give me a lot of hope that we’ll overcome the obstacles we face in society.”

That's you!  Is it any wonder that I am optimistic?  Throughout our history, a new generation of Americans has reached up and bent the arc of history in the direction of more freedom, and more opportunity, and more justice.  And, Class of 2016, it is your turn now -- (applause) -- to shape our nation’s destiny, as well as your own.  

So get to work.  Make sure the next 250 years are better than the last.  (Applause.)  

Good luck.  God bless you.  God bless this country we love.  Thank you.  (Applause.) 

Barack Obama: 'Be confident in your blackness', Howard University - 2016

5 May 2016, Howard University, Washington DC, USA

Thank you! Hello, Howard! (Applause.) H-U!

AUDIENCE: You know!

OBAMA: H-U!

AUDIENCE: You know!

OBAMA: (Laughter.) Thank you so much, everybody. Please, please, have a seat. Oh, I feel important now. Got a degree from Howard. Cicely Tyson said something nice about me. (Laughter.)

AUDIENCE MEMBER: I love you, President!

OBAMA: I love you back.

To President Frederick, the Board of Trustees, faculty and staff, fellow recipients of honorary degrees, thank you for the honor of spending this day with you. And congratulations to the Class of 2016! (Applause.) Four years ago, back when you were just freshmen, I understand many of you came by my house the night I was reelected. (Laughter.) So I decided to return the favor and come by yours.

To the parents, the grandparents, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, all the family and friends who stood by this class, cheered them on, helped them get here today -- this is your day, as well. Let’s give them a big round of applause, as well. (Applause.)

I’m not trying to stir up any rivalries here; I just want to see who’s in the house. We got Quad? (Applause.) Annex. (Applause.) Drew. Carver. Slow. Towers. And Meridian. (Applause.) Rest in peace, Meridian. (Laughter.) Rest in peace.

I know you’re all excited today. You might be a little tired, as well. Some of you were up all night making sure your credits were in order. (Laughter.) Some of you stayed up too late, ended up at HoChi at 2:00 a.m. (Laughter.) Got some mambo sauce on your fingers. (Laughter.)

But you got here. And you've all worked hard to reach this day. You’ve shuttled between challenging classes and Greek life. You've led clubs, played an instrument or a sport. You volunteered, you interned. You held down one, two, maybe three jobs. You've made lifelong friends and discovered exactly what you’re made of. The “Howard Hustle” has strengthened your sense of purpose and ambition.

Which means you're part of a long line of Howard graduates. Some are on this stage today. Some are in the audience. That spirit of achievement and special responsibility has defined this campus ever since the Freedman’s Bureau established Howard just four years after the Emancipation Proclamation; just two years after the Civil War came to an end. They created this university with a vision -- a vision of uplift; a vision for an America where our fates would be determined not by our race, gender, religion or creed, but where we would be free -- in every sense -- to pursue our individual and collective dreams.

It is that spirit that's made Howard a centerpiece of African-American intellectual life and a central part of our larger American story. This institution has been the home of many firsts: The first black Nobel Peace Prize winner. The first black Supreme Court justice. But its mission has been to ensure those firsts were not the last. Countless scholars, professionals, artists, and leaders from every field received their training here. The generations of men and women who walked through this yard helped reform our government, cure disease, grow a black middle class, advance civil rights, shape our culture. The seeds of change -- for all Americans -- were sown here. And that’s what I want to talk about today.

As I was preparing these remarks, I realized that when I was first elected President, most of you -- the Class of 2016 -- were just starting high school. Today, you’re graduating college. I used to joke about being old. Now I realize I'm old. (Laughter.) It's not a joke anymore. (Laughter.)

But seeing all of you here gives me some perspective. It makes me reflect on the changes that I’ve seen over my own lifetime. So let me begin with what may sound like a controversial statement -- a hot take.

Given the current state of our political rhetoric and debate, let me say something that may be controversial, and that is this: America is a better place today than it was when I graduated from college. (Applause.) Let me repeat: America is by almost every measure better than it was when I graduated from college. It also happens to be better off than when I took office -- (laughter) -- but that's a longer story. (Applause.) That's a different discussion for another speech.

But think about it. I graduated in 1983. New York City, America’s largest city, where I lived at the time, had endured a decade marked by crime and deterioration and near bankruptcy. And many cities were in similar shape. Our nation had gone through years of economic stagnation, the stranglehold of foreign oil, a recession where unemployment nearly scraped 11 percent. The auto industry was getting its clock cleaned by foreign competition. And don’t even get me started on the clothes and the hairstyles. I've tried to eliminate all photos of me from this period. I thought I looked good. (Laughter.) I was wrong.

Since that year -- since the year I graduated -- the poverty rate is down. Americans with college degrees, that rate is up. Crime rates are down. America’s cities have undergone a renaissance. There are more women in the workforce. They’re earning more money. We’ve cut teen pregnancy in half. We've slashed the African American dropout rate by almost 60 percent, and all of you have a computer in your pocket that gives you the world at the touch of a button. In 1983, I was part of fewer than 10 percent of African Americans who graduated with a bachelor’s degree. Today, you’re part of the more than 20 percent who will. And more than half of blacks say we’re better off than our parents were at our age -- and that our kids will be better off, too.

So America is better. And the world is better, too. A wall came down in Berlin. An Iron Curtain was torn asunder. The obscenity of apartheid came to an end. A young generation in Belfast and London have grown up without ever having to think about IRA bombings. In just the past 16 years, we’ve come from a world without marriage equality to one where it’s a reality in nearly two dozen countries. Around the world, more people live in democracies. We’ve lifted more than 1 billion people from extreme poverty. We’ve cut the child mortality rate worldwide by more than half.

America is better. The world is better. And stay with me now -- race relations are better since I graduated. That’s the truth. No, my election did not create a post-racial society. I don’t know who was propagating that notion. That was not mine. But the election itself -- and the subsequent one -- because the first one, folks might have made a mistake. (Laughter.) The second one, they knew what they were getting. The election itself was just one indicator of how attitudes had changed.

In my inaugural address, I remarked that just 60 years earlier, my father might not have been served in a D.C. restaurant -- at least not certain of them. There were no black CEOs of Fortune 500 companies. Very few black judges. Shoot, as Larry Wilmore pointed out last week, a lot of folks didn’t even think blacks had the tools to be a quarterback. Today, former Bull Michael Jordan isn’t just the greatest basketball player of all time -- he owns the team. (Laughter.) When I was graduating, the main black hero on TV was Mr. T. (Laughter.) Rap and hip hop were counterculture, underground. Now, Shonda Rhimes owns Thursday night, and Beyoncé runs the world. (Laughter.) We’re no longer only entertainers, we're producers, studio executives. No longer small business owners -- we're CEOs, we’re mayors, representatives, Presidents of the United States. (Applause.)

I am not saying gaps do not persist. Obviously, they do. Racism persists. Inequality persists. Don’t worry -- I’m going to get to that. But I wanted to start, Class of 2016, by opening your eyes to the moment that you are in. If you had to choose one moment in history in which you could be born, and you didn’t know ahead of time who you were going to be -- what nationality, what gender, what race, whether you’d be rich or poor, gay or straight, what faith you'd be born into -- you wouldn’t choose 100 years ago. You wouldn’t choose the fifties, or the sixties, or the seventies. You’d choose right now. If you had to choose a time to be, in the words of Lorraine Hansberry, “young, gifted, and black” in America, you would choose right now. (Applause.)

I tell you all this because it's important to note progress. Because to deny how far we’ve come would do a disservice to the cause of justice, to the legions of foot soldiers; to not only the incredibly accomplished individuals who have already been mentioned, but your mothers and your dads, and grandparents and great grandparents, who marched and toiled and suffered and overcame to make this day possible. I tell you this not to lull you into complacency, but to spur you into action -- because there’s still so much more work to do, so many more miles to travel. And America needs you to gladly, happily take up that work. You all have some work to do. So enjoy the party, because you're going to be busy. (Laughter.)

Yes, our economy has recovered from crisis stronger than almost any other in the world. But there are folks of all races who are still hurting -- who still can’t find work that pays enough to keep the lights on, who still can’t save for retirement. We’ve still got a big racial gap in economic opportunity. The overall unemployment rate is 5 percent, but the black unemployment rate is almost nine. We’ve still got an achievement gap when black boys and girls graduate high school and college at lower rates than white boys and white girls. Harriet Tubman may be going on the twenty, but we’ve still got a gender gap when a black woman working full-time still earns just 66 percent of what a white man gets paid. (Applause.)

We’ve got a justice gap when too many black boys and girls pass through a pipeline from underfunded schools to overcrowded jails. This is one area where things have gotten worse. When I was in college, about half a million people in America were behind bars. Today, there are about 2.2 million. Black men are about six times likelier to be in prison right now than white men.

Around the world, we’ve still got challenges to solve that threaten everybody in the 21st century -- old scourges like disease and conflict, but also new challenges, from terrorism and climate change.

So make no mistake, Class of 2016 -- you’ve got plenty of work to do. But as complicated and sometimes intractable as these challenges may seem, the truth is that your generation is better positioned than any before you to meet those challenges, to flip the script.

Now, how you do that, how you meet these challenges, how you bring about change will ultimately be up to you. My generation, like all generations, is too confined by our own experience, too invested in our own biases, too stuck in our ways to provide much of the new thinking that will be required. But us old-heads have learned a few things that might be useful in your journey. So with the rest of my time, I’d like to offer some suggestions for how young leaders like you can fulfill your destiny and shape our collective future -- bend it in the direction of justice and equality and freedom.

First of all -- and this should not be a problem for this group -- be confident in your heritage. (Applause.) Be confident in your blackness. One of the great changes that’s occurred in our country since I was your age is the realization there's no one way to be black. Take it from somebody who’s seen both sides of debate about whether I'm black enough. (Laughter.) In the past couple months, I’ve had lunch with the Queen of England and hosted Kendrick Lamar in the Oval Office. There’s no straitjacket, there's no constraints, there's no litmus test for authenticity.

Look at Howard. One thing most folks don’t know about Howard is how diverse it is. When you arrived here, some of you were like, oh, they've got black people in Iowa? (Laughter.) But it’s true -- this class comes from big cities and rural communities, and some of you crossed oceans to study here. You shatter stereotypes. Some of you come from a long line of Bison. Some of you are the first in your family to graduate from college. (Applause.) You all talk different, you all dress different. You’re Lakers fans, Celtics fans, maybe even some hockey fans. (Laughter.)

And because of those who've come before you, you have models to follow. You can work for a company, or start your own. You can go into politics, or run an organization that holds politicians accountable. You can write a book that wins the National Book Award, or you can write the new run of “Black Panther.” Or, like one of your alumni, Ta-Nehisi Coates, you can go ahead and just do both. You can create your own style, set your own standard of beauty, embrace your own sexuality. Think about an icon we just lost -- Prince. He blew up categories. People didn’t know what Prince was doing. (Laughter.) And folks loved him for it.

You need to have the same confidence. Or as my daughters tell me all the time, “You be you, Daddy.” (Laughter.) Sometimes Sasha puts a variation on it -- "You do you, Daddy." (Laughter.) And because you’re a black person doing whatever it is that you're doing, that makes it a black thing. Feel confident.

Second, even as we each embrace our own beautiful, unique, and valid versions of our blackness, remember the tie that does bind us as African Americans -- and that is our particular awareness of injustice and unfairness and struggle. That means we cannot sleepwalk through life. We cannot be ignorant of history. (Applause.) We can’t meet the world with a sense of entitlement. We can’t walk by a homeless man without asking why a society as wealthy as ours allows that state of affairs to occur. We can’t just lock up a low-level dealer without asking why this boy, barely out of childhood, felt he had no other options. We have cousins and uncles and brothers and sisters who we remember were just as smart and just as talented as we were, but somehow got ground down by structures that are unfair and unjust.

And that means we have to not only question the world as it is, and stand up for those African Americans who haven’t been so lucky -- because, yes, you've worked hard, but you've also been lucky. That's a pet peeve of mine: People who have been successful and don’t realize they've been lucky. That God may have blessed them; it wasn’t nothing you did. So don’t have an attitude. But we must expand our moral imaginations to understand and empathize with all people who are struggling, not just black folks who are struggling -- the refugee, the immigrant, the rural poor, the transgender person, and yes, the middle-aged white guy who you may think has all the advantages, but over the last several decades has seen his world upended by economic and cultural and technological change, and feels powerless to stop it. You got to get in his head, too.

Number three: You have to go through life with more than just passion for change; you need a strategy. I'll repeat that. I want you to have passion, but you have to have a strategy. Not just awareness, but action. Not just hashtags, but votes.

You see, change requires more than righteous anger. It requires a program, and it requires organizing. At the 1964 Democratic Convention, Fannie Lou Hamer -- all five-feet-four-inches tall -- gave a fiery speech on the national stage. But then she went back home to Mississippi and organized cotton pickers. And she didn't have the tools and technology where you can whip up a movement in minutes. She had to go door to door. And I’m so proud of the new guard of black civil rights leaders who understand this. It’s thanks in large part to the activism of young people like many of you, from Black Twitter to Black Lives Matter, that America’s eyes have been opened -- white, black, Democrat, Republican -- to the real problems, for example, in our criminal justice system.

But to bring about structural change, lasting change, awareness is not enough. It requires changes in law, changes in custom. If you care about mass incarceration, let me ask you: How are you pressuring members of Congress to pass the criminal justice reform bill now pending before them? (Applause.) If you care about better policing, do you know who your district attorney is? Do you know who your state’s attorney general is? Do you know the difference? Do you know who appoints the police chief and who writes the police training manual? Find out who they are, what their responsibilities are. Mobilize the community, present them with a plan, work with them to bring about change, hold them accountable if they do not deliver. Passion is vital, but you've got to have a strategy.

And your plan better include voting -- not just some of the time, but all the time. (Applause.) It is absolutely true that 50 years after the Voting Rights Act, there are still too many barriers in this country to vote. There are too many people trying to erect new barriers to voting. This is the only advanced democracy on Earth that goes out of its way to make it difficult for people to vote. And there's a reason for that. There's a legacy to that.

But let me say this: Even if we dismantled every barrier to voting, that alone would not change the fact that America has some of the lowest voting rates in the free world. In 2014, only 36 percent of Americans turned out to vote in the midterms -- the secondlowest participation rate on record. Youth turnout -- that would be you -- was less than 20 percent. Less than 20 percent. Four out of five did not vote. In 2012, nearly two in three African Americans turned out. And then, in 2014, only two in five turned out. You don’t think that made a difference in terms of the Congress I've got to deal with? And then people are wondering, well, how come Obama hasn’t gotten this done? How come he didn’t get that done? You don’t think that made a difference? What would have happened if you had turned out at 50, 60, 70 percent, all across this country? People try to make this political thing really complicated. Like, what kind of reforms do we need? And how do we need to do that? You know what, just vote. It's math. If you have more votes than the other guy, you get to do what you want. (Laughter.) It's not that complicated.

And you don’t have excuses. You don’t have to guess the number of jellybeans in a jar or bubbles on a bar of soap to register to vote. You don’t have to risk your life to cast a ballot. Other people already did that for you. (Applause.) Your grandparents, your great grandparents might be here today if they were working on it. What's your excuse? When we don’t vote, we give away our power, disenfranchise ourselves -- right when we need to use the power that we have; right when we need your power to stop others from taking away the vote and rights of those more vulnerable than you are -- the elderly and the poor, the formerly incarcerated trying to earn their second chance.

So you got to vote all the time, not just when it’s cool, not just when it's time to elect a President, not just when you’re inspired. It's your duty. When it’s time to elect a member of Congress or a city councilman, or a school board member, or a sheriff. That’s how we change our politics -- by electing people at every level who are representative of and accountable to us. It is not that complicated. Don’t make it complicated.

And finally, change requires more than just speaking out -- it requires listening, as well. In particular, it requires listening to those with whom you disagree, and being prepared to compromise. When I was a state senator, I helped pass Illinois’s first racial profiling law, and one of the first laws in the nation requiring the videotaping of confessions in capital cases. And we were successful because, early on, I engaged law enforcement. I didn’t say to them, oh, you guys are so racist, you need to do something. I understood, as many of you do, that the overwhelming majority of police officers are good, and honest, and courageous, and fair, and love the communities they serve.

And we knew there were some bad apples, and that even the good cops with the best of intentions -- including, by the way, African American police officers -- might have unconscious biases, as we all do. So we engaged and we listened, and we kept working until we built consensus. And because we took the time to listen, we crafted legislation that was good for the police -- because it improved the trust and cooperation of the community -- and it was good for the communities, who were less likely to be treated unfairly. And I can say this unequivocally: Without at least the acceptance of the police organizations in Illinois, I could never have gotten those bills passed. Very simple. They would have blocked them.

The point is, you need allies in a democracy. That's just the way it is. It can be frustrating and it can be slow. But history teaches us that the alternative to democracy is always worse. That's not just true in this country. It’s not a black or white thing. Go to any country where the give and take of democracy has been repealed by one-party rule, and I will show you a country that does not work.

And democracy requires compromise, even when you are 100 percent right. This is hard to explain sometimes. You can be completely right, and you still are going to have to engage folks who disagree with you. If you think that the only way forward is to be as uncompromising as possible, you will feel good about yourself, you will enjoy a certain moral purity, but you’re not going to get what you want. And if you don’t get what you want long enough, you will eventually think the whole system is rigged. And that will lead to more cynicism, and less participation, and a downward spiral of more injustice and more anger and more despair. And that's never been the source of our progress. That's how we cheat ourselves of progress.

We remember Dr. King’s soaring oratory, the power of his letter from a Birmingham jail, the marches he led. But he also sat down with President Johnson in the Oval Office to try and get a Civil Rights Act and a Voting Rights Act passed. And those two seminal bills were not perfect -- just like the Emancipation Proclamation was a war document as much as it was some clarion call for freedom. Those mileposts of our progress were not perfect. They did not make up for centuries of slavery or Jim Crow or eliminate racism or provide for 40 acres and a mule. But they made things better. And you know what, I will take better every time. I always tell my staff -- better is good, because you consolidate your gains and then you move on to the next fight from a stronger position.

Brittany Packnett, a member of the Black Lives Matter movement and Campaign Zero, one of the Ferguson protest organizers, she joined our Task Force on 21st Century Policing. Some of her fellow activists questioned whether she should participate. She rolled up her sleeves and sat at the same table with big city police chiefs and prosecutors. And because she did, she ended up shaping many of the recommendations of that task force. And those recommendations are now being adopted across the country -- changes that many of the protesters called for. If young activists like Brittany had refused to participate out of some sense of ideological purity, then those great ideas would have just remained ideas. But she did participate. And that’s how change happens.

America is big and it is boisterous and it is more diverse than ever. The president told me that we've got a significant Nepalese contingent here at Howard. I would not have guessed that. Right on. But it just tells you how interconnected we're becoming. And with so many folks from so many places, converging, we are not always going to agree with each other.

Another Howard alum, Zora Neale Hurston, once said -- this is a good quote here: “Nothing that God ever made is the same thing to more than one person.” Think about that. That’s why our democracy gives us a process designed for us to settle our disputes with argument and ideas and votes instead of violence and simple majority rule.

So don’t try to shut folks out, don’t try to shut them down, no matter how much you might disagree with them. There's been a trend around the country of trying to get colleges to disinvite speakers with a different point of view, or disrupt a politician’s rally. Don’t do that -- no matter how ridiculous or offensive you might find the things that come out of their mouths. Because as my grandmother used to tell me, every time a fool speaks, they are just advertising their own ignorance. Let them talk. Let them talk. If you don’t, you just make them a victim, and then they can avoid accountability.

That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t challenge them. Have the confidence to challenge them, the confidence in the rightness of your position. There will be times when you shouldn’t compromise your core values, your integrity, and you will have the responsibility to speak up in the face of injustice. But listen. Engage. If the other side has a point, learn from them. If they’re wrong, rebut them. Teach them. Beat them on the battlefield of ideas. And you might as well start practicing now, because one thing I can guarantee you -- you will have to deal with ignorance, hatred, racism, foolishness, trifling folks. (Laughter.) I promise you, you will have to deal with all that at every stage of your life. That may not seem fair, but life has never been completely fair. Nobody promised you a crystal stair. And if you want to make life fair, then you've got to start with the world as it is.

So that’s my advice. That’s how you change things. Change isn’t something that happens every four years or eight years; change is not placing your faith in any particular politician and then just putting your feet up and saying, okay, go. Change is the effort of committed citizens who hitch their wagons to something bigger than themselves and fight for it every single day.

That’s what Thurgood Marshall understood -- a man who once walked this year, graduated from Howard Law; went home to Baltimore, started his own law practice. He and his mentor, Charles Hamilton Houston, rolled up their sleeves and they set out to overturn segregation. They worked through the NAACP. Filed dozens of lawsuits, fought dozens of cases. And after nearly 20 years of effort -- 20 years -- Thurgood Marshall ultimately succeeded in bringing his righteous cause before the Supreme Court, and securing the ruling in Brown v. Board of Education that separate could never be equal. (Applause.) Twenty years.

Marshall, Houston -- they knew it would not be easy. They knew it would not be quick. They knew all sorts of obstacles would stand in their way. They knew that even if they won, that would just be the beginning of a longer march to equality. But they had discipline. They had persistence. They had faith -- and a sense of humor. And they made life better for all Americans.

And I know you graduates share those qualities. I know it because I've learned about some of the young people graduating here today. There's a young woman named Ciearra Jefferson, who’s graduating with you. And I'm just going to use her as an example. I hope you don’t mind, Ciearra. Ciearra grew up in Detroit and was raised by a poor single mom who worked seven days a week in an auto plant. And for a time, her family found themselves without a place to call home. They bounced around between friends and family who might take them in. By her senior year, Ciearra was up at 5:00 am every day, juggling homework, extracurricular activities, volunteering, all while taking care of her little sister. But she knew that education was her ticket to a better life. So she never gave up. Pushed herself to excel. This daughter of a single mom who works on the assembly line turned down a full scholarship to Harvard to come to Howard. (Applause.)

And today, like many of you, Ciearra is the first in her family to graduate from college. And then, she says, she’s going to go back to her hometown, just like Thurgood Marshall did, to make sure all the working folks she grew up with have access to the health care they need and deserve. As she puts it, she’s going to be a “change agent.” She’s going to reach back and help folks like her succeed.

And people like Ciearra are why I remain optimistic about America. (Applause.) Young people like you are why I never give in to despair.

James Baldwin once wrote, “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

Graduates, each of us is only here because someone else faced down challenges for us. We are only who we are because someone else struggled and sacrificed for us. That's not just Thurgood Marshall’s story, or Ciearra’s story, or my story, or your story -- that is the story of America. A story whispered by slaves in the cotton fields, the song of marchers in Selma, the dream of a King in the shadow of Lincoln. The prayer of immigrants who set out for a new world. The roar of women demanding the vote. The rallying cry of workers who built America. And the GIs who bled overseas for our freedom.

Now it’s your turn. And the good news is, you’re ready. And when your journey seems too hard, and when you run into a chorus of cynics who tell you that you’re being foolish to keep believing or that you can’t do something, or that you should just give up, or you should just settle -- you might say to yourself a little phrase that I’ve found handy these last eight years: Yes, we can.

Congratulations, Class of 2016! (Applause.) Good luck! God bless you. God bless the United States of America. I'm proud of you.

Michael Bloomberg: 'Those who promise you a free lunch will invariably eat you for breakfast' University of Michigan - 2016

30 April 2016, University of Michigan, Michigan, USA

Thank you, President Schlissel, and to the Board of Regents. Good morning, everyone!

It’s a real honor to be on this great campus where so much history has been made. And it’s a thrill to walk in the footsteps of Gerald Ford, James Earl Jones, Lucy Loo, and Tom Brady! I’m told that no quarterback has played in more Super Bowls than Tom Brady and in case there are any New Yorkers here, I would just note that he played against the Giants in two of them.

I’m honored to have been asked to speak to all of the faculty, administrators, alumni, and most of all, to the great class of 2016! So, graduates: This is a great day, but there’s another group here that also deserves a big round of applause: your parents and families.

Of course, there were many other people who helped you on your journey, so after you receive your diploma, and as you make your way in the world, remember that your greatest achievements – like today’s – will owe an awful lot to the people around you.

If there’s a secret to success beyond hard work and good luck, it’s that the more you say ‘we’, and the less you say ‘I’, the farther you’ll go. It’s something that the most effective leaders understand and take to heart. Remember: There is almost nothing we do in life that we do alone.

The most useful knowledge that you leave here with today, like the importance of teamwork, has nothing to do with your major. It’s about how to study, how to cooperate, how to listen carefully, how to think critically, and how to resolve conflicts through reason. Those are the most important skills in the working world and it’s why colleges have always exposed students to challenging and uncomfortable ideas.

The fact that some university boards and administrations now bow to pressure and shield students from these ideas through ‘safe spaces,’ ‘code words,’ and ‘trigger warnings’ is, in my view, a terrible mistake. The whole purpose of college is to learn how to deal with difficult situations – not run away from them.

A micro-aggression is exactly that: micro! But in a macro-sense, one of the most dangerous places on a college campus is a safe space because it creates the false impression that we can insulate ourselves from those who hold different views. We can’t – and we shouldn’t try, not in politics, or in the workplace. In the global economy, and in a democratic society, an open mind is the most valuable asset you can possess.

Today, I’d like to talk a little bit about why that’s true based on the lessons I’ve learned over the course of my career. Let’s start with the global economy, and let me put in perspective the job market many of you are entering. For the first time in human history, the majority of people in the developed world are being asked to make a living with their minds, rather than their muscles. For 3,000 years, humankind had an economy based on farming: till the soil, plant the seed, harvest the crop. Hard to do, but fairly easy to learn.

Then, for 300 years, we had an economy based on industry: mold the parts, turn the crank, assemble the product. Hard to do, but also fairly easy to learn.

Now, we have an economy based on information: acquire the knowledge, apply the analytics, use your creativity. Hard to do, hard to learn, and even once you’ve mastered it, you’ll have to start learning all over again, pretty much every day.

If you have the luxury of more than one job offer – now or in the future – don’t pick the one that pays the most; pick the one that teaches you the most and don’t worry if the people around you seem quicker or smarter. You can’t control that, but you can decide that you’re going to outwork them.

In my company, I always give the most complex and important projects to our busiest employees. Why? Because they are the hardest-working and most dedicated. They’re the first ones in the office and the last to leave. They’re the ones who take the shortest lunch breaks and the least vacation. It may not sound like great fun, but in the end, you have to set your priorities.

The secret to success is not rocket science. It just requires true dedication and a willingness to go the extra mile. Whatever your field, volunteer to take on new assignments even if they’re outside your comfort zone. Take the initiative on your own to learn and develop new skills and build contacts who can help you down the road. When will you have learned enough? Let’s put it this way: I know of no Nobel Prize winner who has stopped studying. And in the information economy, everyone – in both white collar and blue collar jobs – will have to keep deepening their knowledge and adapting to technological change.

My life is a perfect example of how important it is to keep an open mind about careers and technology. After college, I went to business school in hopes of landing a middle management job in a factory. I had no idea that factories would soon be closing all across the country, and neither did anyone else.

I ended up finding a job at a Wall Street firm. I loved the job, and soon, my interest in managing a plant disappeared. I thought I’d stay at the firm forever. And I might have – except for one small thing: I got fired.

I was 38 years old, and it was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was also the best thing that ever happened to my career. It led me to start a tech company to computerize real-time financial data. It sounds simple now, but this was 1981 – the dawn of the computer age. We were trying to invent a computer that no one wanted with technology that didn’t exist – a classic example of innovation. Everyone said I was crazy, and maybe they were right. I had only a limited background in computers, and I had never started or run a company, but with a lot of help from some very talented and driven people, we succeeded beyond our wildest dreams.

So the lesson is: Whatever you think your dream job is today, don’t get too attached to it. Chances are, if the job still exists in 15 years, it will be very different – and you may have found other passions. Keeping an open mind to new ideas will be essential to your professional success, and it will be just as crucial to our collective future as a democratic society.

That’s the other lesson I’ve learned that I’d like to share with you today. During the 12 years I had the honor of serving as Mayor of New York City, I witnessed a disturbing change in the nature of American politics: a rise in extreme partisanship and intolerance for other views.

I’m a political independent, but over the course of my life, for non-ideological reasons, I’ve been a Republican and a Democrat. So I can tell you: Neither party has a monopoly on good ideas; each demonizes the other unfairly and dishonestly. This is not a new phenomenon – but it has reached a dangerous new level.

In 1796, George Washington spent much of his farewell address warning Americans against political parties, which he called ‘the worst enemy’ of democratic governments. He wrote of the natural tendency parties have to elevate a single leader who seeks power, in his words, ‘on the ruins of public liberty.’

In this political season, it’s worth remembering what Washington had to say. And so, allow me to read a brief passage from his farewell address.

Partisanship, Washington wrote, ‘serves always to distract the Public Councils, and enfeeble the Public Administration. It agitates the Community with ill-founded jealousies and false alarms; kindles the animosity of one part against another, and foments occasionally riot and insurrection… A fire not to be quenched, it demands a uniform vigilance to prevent its bursting into a flame… lest, instead of warming, it should consume.’

Well said, George. We have survived more than 200 years of political parties largely because the Founding Fathers created checks and balances to temper the fires of partisanship. Of course, they also excluded most Americans from their vision of democracy because they feared what democracy might produce. But over the past two centuries, through the sacrifices of so many civil rights leaders and soldiers, the promise of equal rights has spread across income, religion, race, gender, and sexual orientation.

We still have a long way to go, and it would be a mistake to think that our progress is irreversible or that Washington’s warning is a relic of history. Neither is true and never will be. Democracy and citizenship will always require constant vigilance against those who fan the flames of partisanship in ways that consume us and lead to the ruins of public liberty.

We have certainly seen such figures before, in both parties. In the 1930s, there was the despotic Huey Long in Louisiana, and just a few miles up the road in Dearborn Father Coughlin blamed ‘Jewish conspirators’ for America’s troubles. Then came Charles Lindbergh in the 40s, Joe McCarthy in the 50s, George Wallace in the 60s, and Pat Buchanan in the 90s.

Every generation has had to confront its own demagogues and every generation has stood up and kept them away from the White House, at least so far. Now, it’s your turn.

In this year’s presidential election, we’ve seen more demagoguery from both parties than I can remember in my lifetime. Our country is facing serious and difficult challenges, but rather than offering realistic solutions, candidates in both parties are blaming our problems on easy targets who breed resentment. For Republicans, it’s Mexicans here illegally and Muslims, and for Democrats, it’s the wealthy and Wall Street.

The truth is: We cannot solve the problems we face by blaming anyone. We are all in this together, and we all must be part of the solution. America’s power in the world comes not from the walls we build, but the doors we open, and it comes not from tearing down success, but building up opportunity.

American citizenship does not require much of us. We have no military draft; no mandatory national service; no compulsory voting. Our taxes, compared to Europe, are relatively low. And yet, our voting rates are terrible, and they’re especially low among young people. This year, you can help change that.

Voting is the only way to stop demagogues. But the best way to stop demagogues from rising in the first place is to elect leaders with the courage to face reality, make tough decisions, and lead from the front, rather than following from behind. That has become harder over time. Let me share a story from my time in City Hall that illustrates why.

In 2002, we banned smoking in New York City’s bars and restaurants, and it caused a huge backlash. We got a lot of angry letters and phone calls, and I got a lot of one-fingered waves when I walked down the street. But as time went by, the ban proved to be a huge boon to the bar and restaurant business – surprise, surprise – and smoking rates in our city went down by nearly 30 percent, helping to increase life expectancy for New Yorkers two years above the national average. In fact, I’m glad to say, the policy became so popular that cities and states all over the world copied it.

Today, elected officials who decide to support a controversial policy will also get angry letters, phone calls, and faxes, if they still have fax machines. And for sure, they will now get millions of angry Tweets and Facebook posts denouncing them in the harshest possible terms. That’s democracy in action. But that kind of instant condemnation also makes some elected officials afraid to do things that, in their heart of hearts, they know are right.

So democracy in action can actually produce a lot of inaction, which we see every day in Washington, D.C., and other levels of government, too. When governments fail to address the needs of the people, voters in both parties get angry and some politicians exploit that anger by offering scapegoats instead of solutions.

If we want to stop demagogues, we have to start governing again, and that requires us to be more civil; to support politicians who have the courage to take risks; and to reward those who reach across the aisle in search of compromise.

Now I know doing this won’t be easy, and that’s partly because it’s not just social media that has changed the civic dialogue. The constant bombardment of news that we see on our phones, computers, and TVs gives us the impression we are acquiring knowledge. Yet many of the sources, facts, and interpretations are either dubious, or colored by partisanship, or outright lies. I say that as the owner of a media company who has seen how the marketplace has shifted. Today, people choose cable TV channels and websites that affirm their own political beliefs rather than ones that inform and challenge their beliefs. As a result, we have grown more politically cloistered and more intolerant of those who hold different opinions.

Think about this: In 1960, only four to five percent of Democrats and Republicans said they would be upset if a member of their family married someone from the opposing party. In 2010, one in three Democrats, and one in two Republicans, said they would disapprove of such a marriage. In 1960, most people would never have believed that inter-party marriage would attract such resistance, while inter-racial marriage and same-sex marriage would gain such acceptance. For all the progress we have made on cultural tolerance, when it comes to political tolerance, we are moving in the wrong direction.

We see this trend of political intolerance across the country: At campaign rallies that turn violent; on social media threads that turn vitriolic; and even on college campuses, where students and faculty have attempted to censor political opponents.

I know that one of today’s graduates, Omar Mahmood, has faced threats and intimidation because he dared to write political satire about being left-handed in the Michigan Daily and he refused to apologize for it. Omar, wherever you are out there, I’m glad you stood your ground.

Never be afraid to stand up for what you believe is right, no matter how unpopular it may be or how many people try to shout you down. And just as importantly: Never hesitate to stand up for the rights of others to express their views and exercise their rights, no matter how unpopular that may be. The only way to ensure your right to express yourself is to protect others’ rights to express themselves.

In 2010, I found myself in the middle of a huge debate over free expression. There was a national uproar over a proposal to build a mosque several blocks from the World Trade Center. Members of both parties attacked the plan as an affront to the victims of the 9/11 attacks. Even the Anti-Defamation League, whose mission is to protect against religious discrimination, opposed the idea. But they had all forgotten: the terrorists didn’t just attack buildings, they attacked our freedom to live and pray as we choose according to our own beliefs and values, equally.

The torch that Lady Liberty holds aloft in the New York Harbor lights the way for people of every faith and philosophy, and it shines down on every corner of the city and every community across this great land. No religion should ever face special restrictions on their rights, whether it concerns building a house of worship or getting a visa.

As durable as the American system of government has been, democracy is fragile – and demagogues are always lurking. When Ben Franklin was leaving the Constitutional Convention, a woman approached him and asked him: ‘Well, doctor – what have we got: a republic or a monarchy?’ Franklin replied, ‘A republic – if you can keep it.’

Well, graduates: It is now your responsibility to keep it. That starts with keeping an open mind, voting, and demanding that politicians offer practical solutions, not scapegoats or pie-in-the-sky promises. In 1928, Republicans promised ‘a chicken in every pot and a car in every backyard.’ They won control of Congress and the White House – and a year later, instead of a chicken and a car, we got the Great Depression.

Today, when a populist candidate promises free college, free health care, and a pony, or another candidate promises to make other countries pay for our needs – remember: those who promise you a free lunch will invariably eat you for breakfast. If there were simple solutions to complex problems, we wouldn’t have those problems.

I’m optimistic that you graduates will rise to the occasion and help protect our Republic against the dangers of demagogues and the fires of partisanship that Washington warned us about 220 years ago. I believe in you. I support you. And I will stand with you in this battle to the end of my days so that my children and grandchildren can be as proud of America’s devotion to freedom and equality as I am.

As for today: this is a day of celebration, so relish it; enjoy every minute.

Congratulations and Go Blue!