I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. I thank President Bush for his service to our nation, as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition.

Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential oath. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. Yet, every so often the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because We the People have remained faithful to the ideals of our forbearers, and true to our founding documents.

So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans.

That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war, against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred. Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age. Homes have been lost; jobs shed; businesses shuttered. Our health care is too costly; our schools fail too many; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.

These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable but no less profound is a sapping of confidence across our land - a nagging fear that America's decline is inevitable, and that the next generation must lower its sights.

Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America - they will be met.

On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.

On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.

We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.

In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of short-cuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted - for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things - some celebrated but more often men and women obscure in their labor, who have carried us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and freedom.

For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life.

For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West; endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.

For us, they fought and died, in places like Concord and Gettysburg; Normandy and Khe Sahn.

Time and again these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction.

This is the journey we continue today. We remain the most prosperous, powerful nation on Earth. Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week or last month or last year. Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions - that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.

For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of the economy calls for action, bold and swift, and we will act - not only to create new jobs, but to lay a new foundation for growth. We will build the roads and bridges, the electric grids and digital lines that feed our commerce and bind us together. We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology's wonders to raise health care's quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age. All this we can do. And all this we will do.

Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions - who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this country has already done; what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage.

What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them - that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works - whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end. And those of us who manage the public's dollars will be held to account - to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day - because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government.
Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control - and that a nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our Gross Domestic Product, but on the reach of our prosperity; on the ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart - not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.

As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our Founding Fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience's sake. And so to all other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman, and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and we are ready to lead once more.

Recall that earlier generations faced down fascism and communism not just with missiles and tanks, but with the sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please. Instead, they knew that our power grows through its prudent use; our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint.

We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort - even greater cooperation and understanding between nations. We will begin to responsibly leave Iraq to its people, and forge a hard-earned peace in Afghanistan. With old friends and former foes, we’ll work tirelessly to lessen the nuclear threat, and roll back the specter of a warming planet. We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus - and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect. To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West - know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.

To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds. And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to the suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.

As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Americans who, at this very hour, patrol far-off deserts and distant mountains. They have something to tell us, just as the fallen heroes who lie in Arlington whisper through the ages. We honor them not only because they are guardians of our liberty, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves. And yet, at this moment - a moment that will define a generation - it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all.

For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.

Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends - honesty and hard work, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism - these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility - a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.

This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

This is the source of our confidence - the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.

This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed - why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall, and why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.

So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:
"Let it be told to the future world...that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive...that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it]."

America. In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.

Thank you. God bless you and God bless the United States of America.
 

Thank you so much. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you so 
much. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Dick Durbin. You make us all proud.

On behalf of the great state of Illinois, crossroads of a nation, Land of 
Lincoln, let me express my deepest gratitude for the privilege of 
addressing this convention.

Tonight is a particular honor for me because, letÕs face it, my presence on 
this stage is pretty unlikely. My father was a foreign student, born and 
raised in a small village in Kenya. He grew up herding goats, went to 
school in a tin-roof shack. His father -- my grandfather -- was a cook, a 
domestic servant to the British.

But my grandfather had larger dreams for his son. Through hard work and 
perseverance my father got a scholarship to study in a magical place, 
America, that shone as a beacon of freedom and opportunity to so many who 
had come before.

While studying here, my father met my mother. She was born in a town on the 
other side of the world, in Kansas. Her father worked on oil rigs and farms 
through most of the Depression. The day after Pearl Harbor my grandfather 
signed up for duty; joined PattonÕs army, marched across Europe. Back home, 
my grandmother raised a baby and went to work on a bomber assembly line. 
After the war, they studied on the G.I. Bill, bought a house through 
F.H.A., and later moved west all the way to Hawaii in search of 
opportunity.

And they, too, had big dreams for their daughter. A common dream, born of 
two continents.

My parents shared not only an improbable love, they shared an abiding faith 
in the possibilities of this nation. They would give me an African name, 
Barack, or Óblessed,Ó believing that in a tolerant America your name is no 
barrier to success. They imagined -- They imagined me going to the best 
schools in the land, even though they werenÕt rich, because in a generous 
America you donÕt have to be rich to achieve your potential.

They're both passed away now. And yet, I know that on this night they look 
down on me with great pride.

They stand here -- And I stand here today, grateful for the diversity of my 
heritage, aware that my parentsÕ dreams live on in my two precious 
daughters. I stand here knowing that my story is part of the larger 
American story, that I owe a debt to all of those who came before me, and 
that, in no other country on earth, is my story even possible.

Tonight, we gather to affirm the greatness of our Nation -- not because of 
the height of our skyscrapers, or the power of our military, or the size of 
our economy. Our pride is based on a very simple premise, summed up in a 
declaration made over two hundred years ago:

        We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created
        equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain
        inalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the
        pursuit of Happiness.

That is the true genius of America, a faith -- a faith in simple dreams, an 
insistence on small miracles; that we can tuck in our children at night and 
know that they are fed and clothed and safe from harm; that we can say what 
we think, write what we think, without hearing a sudden knock on the door; 
that we can have an idea and start our own business without paying a bribe; 
that we can participate in the political process without fear of 
retribution, and that our votes will be counted -- at least most of the 
time.

This year, in this election we are called to reaffirm our values and our 
commitments, to hold them against a hard reality and see how we're 
measuring up to the legacy of our forbearers and the promise of future 
generations.

And fellow Americans, Democrats, Republicans, Independents, I say to you 
tonight: We have more work to do --  more work to do for the workers I met 
in Galesburg, Illinois, who are losing their union jobs at the Maytag plant 
thatÕs moving to Mexico, and now are having to compete with their own 
children for jobs that pay seven bucks an hour; more to do for the father 
that I met who was losing his job and choking back the tears, wondering how 
he would pay 4500 dollars a month for the drugs his son needs without the 
health benefits that he counted on; more to do for the young woman in East 
St. Louis, and thousands more like her, who has the grades, has the drive, 
has the will, but doesnÕt have the money to go to college.

Now, donÕt get me wrong. The people I meet -- in small towns and big 
cities, in diners and office parks -- they donÕt expect government to solve 
all their problems. They know they have to work hard to get ahead,  and 
they want to. Go into the collar counties around Chicago, and people will 
tell you they donÕt want their tax money wasted, by a welfare agency or by 
the Pentagon. Go in -- Go into any inner city neighborhood, and folks will 
tell you that government alone canÕt teach our kids to learn; they know 
that parents have to teach, that children canÕt achieve unless we raise 
their expectations and turn off the television sets and eradicate the 
slander that says a black youth with a book is acting white. They know 
those things.

People donÕt expect -- People don't expect government to solve all their 
problems. But they sense, deep in their bones, that with just a slight 
change in priorities, we can make sure that every child in America has a 
decent shot at life, and that the doors of opportunity remain open to all.

They know we can do better. And they want that choice.

In this election, we offer that choice. Our Party has chosen a man to lead 
us who embodies the best this country has to offer. And that man is John 
Kerry.

John Kerry understands the ideals of community, faith, and service because 
theyÕve defined his life. From his heroic service to Vietnam, to his years 
as a prosecutor and lieutenant governor, through two decades in the United 
States Senate, he's devoted himself to this country. Again and again, weÕve 
seen him make tough choices when easier ones were available.

His values and his record affirm what is best in us. John Kerry believes in 
an America where hard work is rewarded; so instead of offering tax breaks 
to companies shipping jobs overseas, he offers them to companies creating 
jobs here at home.

John Kerry believes in an America where all Americans can afford the same 
health coverage our politicians in Washington have for themselves.

John Kerry believes in energy independence, so we arenÕt held hostage to 
the profits of oil companies, or the sabotage of foreign oil fields.

John Kerry believes in the Constitutional freedoms that have made our 
country the envy of the world, and he will never sacrifice our basic 
liberties, nor use faith as a wedge to divide us.

And John Kerry believes that in a dangerous world war must be an option 
sometimes, but it should never be the first option.

You know, a while back -- awhile back I met a young man named Shamus in a 
V.F.W. Hall in East Moline, Illinois. He was a good-looking kid -- six two, 
six three, clear eyed, with an easy smile. He told me heÕd joined the 
Marines and was heading to Iraq the following week. And as I listened to 
him explain why heÕd enlisted, the absolute faith he had in our country and 
its leaders, his devotion to duty and service, I thought this young man was 
all that any of us might ever hope for in a child.

But then I asked myself, "Are we serving Shamus as well as he is serving 
us?"

I thought of the 900 men and women -- sons and daughters, husbands and 
wives, friends and neighbors, who wonÕt be returning to their own 
hometowns. I thought of the families IÕve met who were struggling to get by 
without a loved oneÕs full income, or whose loved ones had returned with a 
limb missing or nerves shattered, but still lacked long-term health 
benefits because they were Reservists.

When we send our young men and women into harmÕs way, we have a solemn 
obligation not to fudge the numbers or shade the truth about why theyÕre 
going, to care for their families while theyÕre gone, to tend to the 
soldiers upon their return, and to never ever go to war without enough 
troops to win the war, secure the peace, and earn the respect of the world.

Now -- Now let me be clear. Let me be clear. We have real enemies in the 
world. These enemies must be found. They must be pursued. And they must be 
defeated. John Kerry knows this. And just as Lieutenant Kerry did not 
hesitate to risk his life to protect the men who served with him in 
Vietnam, President Kerry will not hesitate one moment to use our military 
might to keep America safe and secure.

John Kerry believes in America. And he knows that itÕs not enough for just 
some of us to prosper -- for alongside our famous individualism, thereÕs 
another ingredient in the American saga,  a belief that weÕre all connected 
as one people. If there is a child on the south side of Chicago who canÕt 
read, that matters to me, even if itÕs not my child. If there is a senior 
citizen somewhere who canÕt pay for their prescription drugs, and having to 
choose between medicine and the rent, that makes my life poorer, even if 
itÕs not my grandparent. If thereÕs an Arab American family being rounded 
up without benefit of an attorney or due process, that threatens my civil 
liberties.

It is that fundamental belief -- It is that fundamental belief: I am my 
brotherÕs keeper. I am my sisterÕs keeper that makes this country work. 
ItÕs what allows us to pursue our individual dreams and yet still come 
together as one American family.

E pluribus unum: "Out of many, one."

Now even as we speak, there are those who are preparing to divide us -- the 
spin masters, the negative ad peddlers who embrace the politics of 
"anything goes." Well, I say to them tonight, there is not a liberal 
America and a conservative America -- there is the United States of 
America. There is not a Black America and a White America and Latino 
America and Asian America -- thereÕs the United States of America.

The pundits, the pundits like to slice-and-dice our country into red states 
and blue states; red states for Republicans, blue states for Democrats. But 
IÕve got news for them, too. We worship an "awesome God" in the blue 
states, and we donÕt like federal agents poking around in our libraries in 
the red states. We coach Little League in the blue states and yes, weÕve 
got some gay friends in the red states. There are patriots who opposed the 
war in Iraq and there are patriots who supported the war in Iraq. We are 
one people, all of us pledging allegiance to the stars and stripes, all of 
us defending the United States of America.

In the end -- In the end -- In the end, thatÕs what this election is about. 
Do we participate in a politics of cynicism or do we participate in a 
politics of hope?

John Kerry calls on us to hope. John Edwards calls on us to hope.

IÕm not talking about blind optimism here -- the almost willful ignorance 
that thinks unemployment will go away if we just donÕt think about it, or 
the health care crisis will solve itself if we just ignore it. ThatÕs not 
what IÕm talking about. IÕm talking about something more substantial. ItÕs 
the hope of slaves sitting around a fire singing freedom songs; the hope of 
immigrants setting out for distant shores; the hope of a young naval 
lieutenant bravely patrolling the Mekong Delta; the hope of a millworkerÕs 
son who dares to defy the odds; the hope of a skinny kid with a funny name 
who believes that America has a place for him, too.

Hope -- Hope in the face of difficulty. Hope in the face of uncertainty. 
The audacity of hope!

In the end, that is GodÕs greatest gift to us, the bedrock of this nation. 
A belief in things not seen. A belief that there are better days ahead.

I believe that we can give our middle class relief and provide working 
families with a road to opportunity.

I believe we can provide jobs to the jobless, homes to the homeless, and 
reclaim young people in cities across America from violence and despair.

I believe that we have a righteous wind at our backs and that as we stand 
on the crossroads of history, we can make the right choices, and meet the 
challenges that face us.

America! Tonight, if you feel the same energy that I do, if you feel the 
same urgency that I do, if you feel the same passion that I do, if you feel 
the same hopefulness that I do -- if we do what we must do, then I have no 
doubt that all across the country, from Florida to Oregon, from Washington 
to Maine, the people will rise up in November, and John Kerry will be sworn 
in as President, and John Edwards will be sworn in as Vice President, and 
this country will reclaim its promise, and out of this long political 
darkness a brighter day will come.

Thank you very much everybody. God bless you. Thank you.

Good afternoon, everybody.  I know itÕs a little warm out here so want to 
get started.  IÕve just had a meeting with these governors, members of 
Congress, local officials, as well as Admiral Thad Allen, the National 
Incident Commander in charge of response efforts to the BP oil spill.  
Admiral Allen gave us an update, the latest information on both the efforts 
to plug the well, as well as giving us an update on arrangements and 
coordination that's being made with respect to mitigating this damage 
that's been done. 

He updated us on these latest efforts to stop the leak, mitigate the damage 
to the great beaches of the Gulf coast, and I had the chance to visit with 
-- Charlotte -- a beach like Port Fourchon that gives you a sense of what 
extraordinary efforts are being made at the local level, but also the 
damage that we're already starting to see as a consequence of this spill.

Now, our mission remains the same as it has since this disaster began, 
since the day I visited Louisiana nearly four weeks ago:  We want to stop 
the leak; we want to contain and clean up the oil; and we want to help the 
people of this region return to their lives and their livelihoods as soon 
as possible. 

And our response treats this event for what it is:  ItÕs an assault on our 
shores, on our people, on the regional economy, and on communities like 
this one.  This isnÕt just a mess that weÕve got to mop up.  People are 
watching their livelihoods wash up on the beach.  Parents are worried about 
the implications for their childrenÕs health.  Every resident of this 
community has watched this nightmare threaten the dreams that theyÕve 
worked so hard to build.  And they want it made right, and they want to 
make it right now.

I just had a chance to listen to Mayor David Carmadelle of Grande Isle, our 
host here, telling us heartbreaking stories about fishermen who are trying 
to figure out where the next paycheck is going to come from, how are they 
going to pay a mortgage or a note on their boat.  And he is having to dig 
into his pocket at this point to make sure that some of them are able to 
deal with the economic impact.  So this is something that has to be dealt 
with immediately, not sometime later.  And thatÕs everybodyÕs driving focus 
-- everybody who is standing behind me. This is our highest priority and it 
deserves a response that is equal to the task.

ThatÕs why this has already been the largest cleanup effort in U.S. 
history.  On the day this disaster began, even as we launched a search and 
rescue effort for workers on the drilling rig, we were already staging 
equipment in the event of a larger-scale spill.  By the time we discovered 
the third breach, a week after the Deepwater Horizon platform sank, we had 
already stationed more than 70 vessels and hundreds of thousands of feet of 
protective boom on site.

Today, there are more than 20,000 people in the region working around the 
clock to contain and clean up this spill.  WeÕve activated about 1,400 
members of the National Guard across four states.  Nearly 1,400 vessels are 
aiding in the containment and cleanup effort.  And we deployed more than 3 
million feet of hard and sorbent boom, including an additional 100,000 just 
yesterday for these parishes in Louisiana that face the greatest threat. 

Now, IÕve made clear to Admiral Allen and I did so again today that he 
should get whatever he needs to deal with this crisis.  Whatever he needs, 
he will get.

Right now, weÕre still within the window where we donÕt yet know the 
outcome of the highly complex top kill procedure that the federal 
government authorized BP to use to try to stop the leak.  If it is 
successful, it would obviously be welcome news.  If itÕs not, a team of 
some of the worldÕs top scientists, engineers and experts, led by our 
Energy Secretary and Nobel Prize-winning physicist Steven Chu, has for some 
time being -- has for some time been exploring any and all reasonable 
contingency plans.

But our response will continue with its full force regardless of the 
outcome of the top kill approach -- because even if the leak was stopped 
today it wouldnÕt change the fact that these waters still contain oil from 
what is now the largest spill in American history.  And more of it will 
come ashore.

To ensure that weÕre fully prepared for that, and in accordance with input 
from folks down here, IÕve directed Secretary Napolitano and Admiral Allen 
to triple the manpower in places where oil has hit the shore or is within 
24 hours of impact.  This increase will allow us to further intensify this 
already historic response, contain and remove oil more quickly, and help 
minimize the time that any oil comes into contact with our coastline.  That 
means deploying more boom, cleaning more beaches, performing more 
monitoring of wildlife and impact to this ecosystem.

WeÕre also going to continue to do whatever it takes to help Americans 
whose livelihoods have been upended by this spill.  Gulf Coast residents 
should know that weÕve gathered all pertinent information regarding 
available assistance and the federal response in one place at 
whitehouse.gov.

We have ordered BP to pay economic injury claims, and we will make sure 
they deliver.  And the parish presidents and governors here in Louisiana 
were already giving us some sense of some of the bureaucratic problems that 
weÕre going to have to cut through, but we are going to cut through them.  
And for those who are in economic distress, if youÕve already filed a claim 
and youÕre not satisfied with the resolution, then whitehouse.gov will 
point you in the right direction. 

As I said yesterday, the Small Business Administration has stepped in to 
help businesses by approving loans, but also as important, allowing many to 
defer existing loan payments.  A lot of folks are still loaded up with 
loans that they had from Katrina and other natural disasters down here, so 
they may need some additional help.

If youÕre a small business owner and you werenÕt aware of some of the 
programs that have been put in place or havenÕt participated, then, again, 
the White House website will connect you to the resources you need.  And we 
are making sure that all the parish presidents know, and folks like the 
mayor, other local officials are going to be aware of how they can get 
immediate help from us.

WhatÕs more, weÕve stationed doctors and scientists across the five Gulf 
States to look out for peopleÕs health and then to monitor any ill effects 
felt by cleanup workers and local residents.  And weÕve begun setting up a 
system to track these efforts -- excuse me, to track these effects -- and 
ensure folks get the care that they need.  And weÕve told BP that we expect 
them to pay for that, too.

As IÕve said before, BP is the responsible party for this disaster.  What 
that means is theyÕre legally responsible for stopping the leak and theyÕre 
financially responsible for the enormous damage that theyÕve created.  And 
weÕre going to hold them accountable, along with any other party 
responsible for the initial explosion and loss of life on that platform.

But as I said yesterday, and as I repeated in the meeting that we just 
left, I ultimately take responsibility for solving this crisis.  IÕm the 
President and the buck stops with me.  So I give the people of this 
community and the entire Gulf my word that weÕre going to hold ourselves 
accountable to do whatever it takes for as long as it takes to stop this 
catastrophe, to defend our natural resources, to repair the damage, and to 
keep this region on its feet.  Justice will be done for those whose lives 
have been upended by this disaster, for the families of those whose lives 
have been lost -- that is a solemn pledge that I am making.

I think I can speak for anybody here, and for anybody who has been involved 
in the response and the cleanup effort, and for most Americans, when I say 
that I would gladly do whatever it takes to end this disaster today.  But I 
want to also repeat something that I said to the group as a whole while we 
were meeting.  This is a manmade catastrophe thatÕs still evolving and we 
face a long-term recovery and restoration effort. 

America has never experienced an event like this before.  And that means 
that as we respond to it, not every judgment we make is going to be right 
the first time out.  Sometimes, there are going to be disagreements between 
experts, or between federal and state and local officials, or among state 
officials, or between states, about what the most effective measures will 
be.

Sometimes, there are going to be risks and unintended consequences 
associated with a particular mitigation strategy that we consider.  In 
other words, there are going to be a lot of judgment calls involved here.  
There are not going to be silver bullets or a lot of perfect answers for 
some of the challenges that we face.

Understandably, the feelings of frustration and anger, the sense that any 
response is inadequate -- we expect that frustration and anger to continue 
until we actually solve this problem.  But in the meantime, weÕve got to 
make sure that everybody is working in concert, that everybody is moving in 
the same direction.  And I want everybody to know that everybody here -- at 
every level -- is working night and day to end this crisis. WeÕre 
considering every single idea out there, especially from folks who know 
these communities best.

Admiral Allen announced yesterday, for example, that, after a bunch of 
back-and-forth between state and federal experts, he is prepared to 
authorize moving forward with a portion of the idea for a barrier island 
that may stop some of the oil from coming ashore.  We had an extensive 
conversation about this and  -- to see whether additional steps can be 
taken on this barrier island idea. 

And what I told the parish president, what I told the Governor, is that if 
there is an idea that can be shown to work, then we should move forward on 
it, and they deserve quick answers.  But I also reminded everybody that 
weÕve got to make sure that whatever we do is actually going to work, 
particularly because weÕre going to have not unlimited resources, at least 
not right now.  For example, thereÕs a limited amount of boom.  WeÕre going 
to try to get more boom manufactured.  But that may take some time, and 
that means weÕre going to have to make some decisions about how to deploy 
it effectively.

The bottom line is this:  Every decision we make is based on a single 
criterion -Ð whatÕs going to best protect and make whole the people and the 
ecosystems of the Gulf.

And I want to thank everybody in this region whoÕs rolled up their sleeves 
and pitched in to help -Ð from the National Guard putting their experience 
to the task, to the local officials and every citizen who loves this area 
and calls it home, every American whoÕs traveled to the region to lend a 
hand.  If any American is looking for ways to volunteer and help, then 
weÕve put links to that information on our website, as well -- that's 
whitehouse.gov. 

And, all these governors -- Bobby Jindal, as well as Charlie Crist and Bob 
Riley, they want -- and I know Haley Barbour is not here but I think he 
agrees with this, as well -- one of the powerful ways that you can help the 
Gulf right now is to visit the communities and the beaches off of the 
coast.  Except for three beaches here in Louisiana, all of the GulfÕs 
beaches at this moment are open, they are safe and they are clean.  And so 
that's always a good way to help, is to come down and provide support to 
the communities along the coasts.

To the people of the Gulf Coast:  I know that youÕve weathered your fair 
share of trials and tragedy.  I know there have been times where youÕve 
wondered if you were being asked to face them alone.  I am here to tell you 
that youÕre not alone.  You will not be abandoned.  You will not be left 
behind.  The cameras at some point may leave; the media may get tired of 
the story; but we will not.  We are on your side and we will see this 
through.  WeÕre going to keep at this every day until the leak has stopped, 
until this coastline is clean, and your communities are made whole again.  
ThatÕs my promise to you.  And that is a promise on behalf of a nation.  It 
is one that we will keep. 

And I will make one last point -- and I said this to every leader who is 
here:  If something is not going right down here, then they need to talk to 
Thad Allen.  And if theyÕre not getting satisfaction from Thad Allen, then 
they can talk to me.  ThereÕs nobody here who canÕt get in touch with me 
directly if there is an idea, a suggestion, or a logjam that needs to be 
dealt with.

So weÕre in this together.  And itÕs going to be a difficult time, and 
obviously the folks down here are going to be feeling the brunt of it, but 
weÕre going to make sure that weÕre doing everything we can to get this 
solved as quickly as possible.

And I want to again think everybody here for the extraordinary work that 
theyÕre putting in.  You shouldnÕt underestimate how hard these folks are 
working, day in, day out, on behalf of their constituencies.

So thank you very much.  Thank you, everybody.

Good afternoon. Today I accepted General Stanley McChrystal's resignation 
as commander of the International Security Assistance Force in Afghanistan. 
I did so with considerable regret, but also with certainty that it is the 
right thing for our mission in Afghanistan, for our military, and for our 
country.

I'm also pleased to nominate General David Petraeus to take command in 
Afghanistan which will allows us to maintain the momentum and leadership 
that we need to succeed. 

I don't make this decision based on any difference in policy with General 
McChrystal, as we are in full agreement about our strategy. Nor do I make 
this decision out of any sense of personal insult. Stan McChrystal has 
always shown great courtesy and carried out my orders faithfully. I've got 
great admiration for him and for his long record of service in uniform.

Over the last nine years, with America fighting wars in Iraq and 
Afghanistan, he has earned a reputation as one of our nation's finest 
soldiers. That reputation is founded upon his extraordinary dedication, his 
deep intelligence and his love of country. I've relied on his service, 
particularly in helping to design and lead our new strategy in Afghanistan. 
So all Americans should be grateful for General McChrystal's remarkable 
career in uniform.

But war is bigger than any one man or woman, whether a private, a general 
or a president. And as difficult as it is to lose General McChrystal, I 
believe that it is the right decision for our national security.

The conduct represented in the recently published article does not meet the 
standard that should be set by a commanding general. It undermines the 
civilian control of the military that is at the core of our democratic 
system. And it erodes the trust that's necessary for our team to work 
together to achieve our objectives in Afghanistan.

My multiple responsibilities as Commander-in-Chief led me to this decision. 
First, I have a responsibility to the extraordinary men and women who are 
fighting this war and to the democratic institutions that I've been elected 
to lead. I've got no greater honor than serving as commander-in-chief of 
our men and women in uniform.

And it is my duty to ensure that no diversion complicates the vital mission 
that they are carrying out. That includes adherence to a strict code of 
conduct. The strength and greatness of our military is rooted in the fact 
that this code applies equally to newly enlisted privates and to the 
general officer who commands them. That allows us to come together as one. 
That's part of the reason why America has the finest fighting force in the 
history of the world.

It is also true that our democracy depends upon institutions that are 
stronger than individuals. That includes strict adherence to the military 
chain of command and respect for civilian control over that chain of 
command. And that's why as commander-in-chief I believe this decision is 
necessary to hold ourselves accountable to standards that are at the core 
of our democracy.

Second, I have a responsibility to do whatever is necessary to succeed in 
Afghanistan and in our broader effort to disrupt, dismantle and defeat Al 
Qaida. I believe that this mission demands unity of effort across our 
alliance and across my national security team. And I don't think that we 
can sustain that unity of effort and achieve our objectives in Afghanistan 
without making this change. That, too, has guided my decision.

I've just told my national security team that now is the time for all of us 
to come together. Doing so is not an option but an obligation. I welcome 
debate among my team, but I won't tolerate division. All of us have 
personal interests. All of us have opinions. Our politics often fuels 
conflict. But we have to renew our sense of common purpose and meet our 
responsibilities to one another, and to our troops who are in harm's way 
and to our country.

We need to remember what this is all about. Our nation is at war. We face a 
very tough fight in Afghanistan. But Americans don't flinch in the face of 
difficult truths or difficult tasks. We persist and we persevere. We will 
not tolerate a safe haven for terrorists who want to destroy Afghan society 
from within and launch attacks against innocent men, women and children in 
our country and around the world.

So make no mistake, we have a clear goal. We are going to break the 
Taliban's momentum. We are going to build Afghan capacity. We are going to 
relentlessly apply pressure on Al Qaida and its leadership, strengthening 
the ability of both Afghanistan and Pakistan to do the same. That's the 
strategy that we agreed to last fall. That is the policy that we are 
carrying out in Afghanistan and Pakistan.

In that effort, we are honored to be joined by allies and partners who have 
stood by us and paid the ultimate price through the loss of their young 
people at war. They are with us because the interests and values that we 
share, and because this mission is fundamental to the ability of free 
people to live in peace and security in the 21st century.

And General Petraeus and I were able to spend some time this morning 
discussing the way forward. I'm extraordinarily grateful that he has agreed 
to serve in this new capacity. It should be clear to everybody he does so 
at great personal sacrifice to himself and to his family. And he is setting 
an extraordinary example of service and patriotism by assuming this 
difficult post.

Let me say to the American people, this is a change in personnel, but it is 
not a change in policy. General Petraeus fully participated in our review 
last fall. And he both supported and helped design the strategy that we 
have in place.

In his current post at Central Command, he was worked closely with our 
forces in Afghanistan; he has worked closely with Congress; he has worked 
closely with the Afghan and Pakistan governments, and with all our partners 
in the region. He has my full confidence. And I am urging the Senate to 
confirm him for this new assignment as swiftly as possible.

Let me conclude by saying that it was a difficult decision to come to the 
conclusion that I've made today. Indeed, it saddens me to lose the service 
of a soldier who I've come to respect and admire. But the reasons that led 
me to this decision are the same principles that have supported the 
strength of our military and our nation since the founding. So, once again, 
I thank General McChrystal for his enormous contributions to the security 
of this nation and to the success of our mission in Afghanistan.

I look forward to working with General Petraeus and my entire national 
security team to succeed in our mission. And I reaffirm that America stands 
as one in our support for the men and women who defend it.

Thank you very much.

It was an image of Earth -– beautiful; breathtaking; a glowing marble of blue oceans, and green forests, and brown mountains brushed with white clouds, rising over the surface of the moon. 

And while the sight of our planet from space might seem routine today, imagine what it looked like to those of us seeing our home, our planet, for the first time.  Imagine what it looked like to children like me.  Even the astronauts were amazed.  “It makes you realize,” Lovell would say, “just what you have back there on Earth.”

And around the same time we began exploring space, scientists were studying changes taking place in the Earth’s atmosphere.  Now, scientists had known since the 1800s that greenhouse gases like carbon dioxide trap heat, and that burning fossil fuels release those gases into the air.  That wasn’t news. But in the late 1950s, the National Weather Service began measuring the levels of carbon dioxide in our atmosphere, with the worry that rising levels might someday disrupt the fragile balance that makes our planet so hospitable.  And what they’ve found, year after year, is that the levels of carbon pollution in our atmosphere have increased dramatically. 

That science, accumulated and reviewed over decades, tells us that our planet is changing in ways that will have profound impacts on all of humankind. 

The 12 warmest years in recorded history have all come in the last 15 years.  Last year, temperatures in some areas of the ocean reached record highs, and ice in the Arctic shrank to its smallest size on record -- faster than most models had predicted it would.  These are facts. 

Now, we know that no single weather event is caused solely by climate change.  Droughts and fires and floods, they go back to ancient times.  But we also know that in a world that’s warmer than it used to be, all weather events are affected by a warming planet.  The fact that sea level in New York, in New York Harbor, are now a foot higher than a century ago -- that didn’t cause Hurricane Sandy, but it certainly contributed to the destruction that left large parts of our mightiest city dark and underwater.

The potential impacts go beyond rising sea levels.  Here at home, 2012 was the warmest year in our history.  Midwest farms were parched by the worst drought since the Dust Bowl, and then drenched by the wettest spring on record.  Western wildfires scorched an area larger than the state of Maryland.  Just last week, a heat wave in Alaska shot temperatures into the 90s. 

And we know that the costs of these events can be measured in lost lives and lost livelihoods, lost homes, lost businesses, hundreds of billions of dollars in emergency services and disaster relief.  In fact, those who are already feeling the effects of climate change don’t have time to deny it -- they’re busy dealing with it.  Firefighters are braving longer wildfire seasons, and states and federal governments have to figure out how to budget for that.  I had to sit on a meeting with the Department of Interior and Agriculture and some of the rest of my team just to figure out how we're going to pay for more and more expensive fire seasons.

Farmers see crops wilted one year, washed away the next; and the higher food prices get passed on to you, the American consumer.  Mountain communities worry about what smaller snowpacks will mean for tourism -- and then, families at the bottom of the mountains wonder what it will mean for their drinking water.  Americans across the country are already paying the price of inaction in insurance premiums, state and local taxes, and the costs of rebuilding and disaster relief.

So the question is not whether we need to act.  The overwhelming judgment of science -- of chemistry and physics and millions of measurements -- has put all that to rest.  Ninety-seven percent of scientists, including, by the way, some who originally disputed the data, have now put that to rest.  They've acknowledged the planet is warming and human activity is contributing to it. 

So the question now is whether we will have the courage to act before it’s too late.  And how we answer will have a profound impact on the world that we leave behind not just to you, but to your children and to your grandchildren.

Here at Georgetown, I unveiled my strategy for a secure energy future.  And thanks to the ingenuity of our businesses, we're starting to produce much more of our own energy.  We're building the first nuclear power plants in more than three decades -- in Georgia and South Carolina.  For the first time in 18 years, America is poised to produce more of our own oil than we buy from other nations.  And today, we produce more natural gas than anybody else.  So we're producing energy.  And these advances have grown our economy, they've created new jobs, they can't be shipped overseas -- and, by the way, they've also helped drive our carbon pollution to its lowest levels in nearly 20 years.  Since 2006, no country on Earth has reduced its total carbon pollution by as much as the United States of America.  (Applause.) 

So it's a good start.  But the reason we're all here in the heat today is because we know we've got more to do. 

In my State of the Union address, I urged Congress to come up with a bipartisan, market-based solution to climate change, like the one that Republican and Democratic senators worked on together a few years ago.  And I still want to see that happen.  I'm willing to work with anyone to make that happen. 

But this is a challenge that does not pause for partisan gridlock.  It demands our attention now.  And this is my plan to meet it -- a plan to cut carbon pollution; a plan to protect our country from the impacts of climate change; and a plan to lead the world in a coordinated assault on a changing climate.  (Applause.) 

This plan begins with cutting carbon pollution by changing the way we use energy -- using less dirty energy, using more clean energy, wasting less energy throughout our economy.

"We the people, in order to form a more perfect union ..." — 221 years ago, in a hall that still stands across the street, a group of men gathered and, with these simple words, launched America's improbable experiment in democracy. Farmers and scholars, statesmen and patriots who had traveled across an ocean to escape tyranny and persecution finally made real their declaration of independence at a Philadelphia convention that lasted through the spring of 1787.

The document they produced was eventually signed but ultimately unfinished. It was stained by this nation's original sin of slavery, a question that divided the colonies and brought the convention to a stalemate until the founders chose to allow the slave trade to continue for at least 20 more years, and to leave any final resolution to future generations.

Of course, the answer to the slavery question was already embedded within our Constitution — a Constitution that had at its very core the ideal of equal citizenship under the law; a Constitution that promised its people liberty and justice and a union that could be and should be perfected over time.

And yet words on a parchment would not be enough to deliver slaves from bondage, or provide men and women of every color and creed their full rights and obligations as citizens of the United States. What would be needed were Americans in successive generations who were willing to do their part — through protests and struggles, on the streets and in the courts, through a civil war and civil disobedience, and always at great risk — to narrow that gap between the promise of our ideals and the reality of their time.

This was one of the tasks we set forth at the beginning of this presidential campaign — to continue the long march of those who came before us, a march for a more just, more equal, more free, more caring and more prosperous America. I chose to run for president at this moment in history because I believe deeply that we cannot solve the challenges of our time unless we solve them together, unless we perfect our union by understanding that we may have different stories, but we hold common hopes; that we may not look the same and we may not have come from the same place, but we all want to move in the same direction — toward a better future for our children and our grandchildren.

This belief comes from my unyielding faith in the decency and generosity of the American people. But it also comes from my own story.

I am the son of a black man from Kenya and a white woman from Kansas. I was raised with the help of a white grandfather who survived a Depression to serve in Patton's Army during World War II and a white grandmother who worked on a bomber assembly line at Fort Leavenworth while he was overseas. I've gone to some of the best schools in America and lived in one of the world's poorest nations. I am married to a black American who carries within her the blood of slaves and slaveowners — an inheritance we pass on to our two precious daughters. I have brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, uncles and cousins of every race and every hue, scattered across three continents, and for as long as I live, I will never forget that in no other country on Earth is my story even possible.

It's a story that hasn't made me the most conventional of candidates. But it is a story that has seared into my genetic makeup the idea that this nation is more than the sum of its parts — that out of many, we are truly one.

Throughout the first year of this campaign, against all predictions to the contrary, we saw how hungry the American people were for this message of unity. Despite the temptation to view my candidacy through a purely racial lens, we won commanding victories in states with some of the whitest populations in the country. In South Carolina, where the Confederate flag still flies, we built a powerful coalition of African-Americans and white Americans.

This is not to say that race has not been an issue in this campaign. At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either "too black" or "not black enough." We saw racial tensions bubble to the surface during the week before the South Carolina primary. The press has scoured every single exit poll for the latest evidence of racial polarization, not just in terms of white and black, but black and brown as well.

And yet, it has only been in the last couple of weeks that the discussion of race in this campaign has taken a particularly divisive turn.

On one end of the spectrum, we've heard the implication that my candidacy is somehow an exercise in affirmative action; that it's based solely on the desire of wide-eyed liberals to purchase racial reconciliation on the cheap. On the other end, we've heard my former pastor, Jeremiah Wright, use incendiary language to express views that have the potential not only to widen the racial divide, but views that denigrate both the greatness and the goodness of our nation, and that rightly offend white and black alike.

I have already condemned, in unequivocal terms, the statements of Reverend Wright that have caused such controversy and, in some cases, pain. For some, nagging questions remain. Did I know him to be an occasionally fierce critic of American domestic and foreign policy? Of course. Did I ever hear him make remarks that could be considered controversial while I sat in the church? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views? Absolutely — just as I'm sure many of you have heard remarks from your pastors, priests, or rabbis with which you strongly disagreed.

But the remarks that have caused this recent firestorm weren't simply controversial. They weren't simply a religious leader's efforts to speak out against perceived injustice. Instead, they expressed a profoundly distorted view of this country — a view that sees white racism as endemic, and that elevates what is wrong with America above all that we know is right with America; a view that sees the conflicts in the Middle East as rooted primarily in the actions of stalwart allies like Israel, instead of emanating from the perverse and hateful ideologies of radical Islam.

As such, Reverend Wright's comments were not only wrong but divisive, divisive at a time when we need unity; racially charged at a time when we need to come together to solve a set of monumental problems — two wars, a terrorist threat, a falling economy, a chronic health care crisis and potentially devastating climate change — problems that are neither black or white or Latino or Asian, but rather problems that confront us all.

Given my background, my politics, and my professed values and ideals, there will no doubt be those for whom my statements of condemnation are not enough. Why associate myself with Reverend Wright in the first place, they may ask? Why not join another church? And I confess that if all that I knew of Reverend Wright were the snippets of those sermons that have run in an endless loop on the television sets and YouTube, or if Trinity United Church of Christ conformed to the caricatures being peddled by some commentators, there is no doubt that I would react in much the same way.

But the truth is, that isn't all that I know of the man. The man I met more than 20 years ago is a man who helped introduce me to my Christian faith, a man who spoke to me about our obligations to love one another, to care for the sick and lift up the poor. He is a man who served his country as a United States Marine; who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over 30 years has led a church that serves the community by doing God's work here on Earth — by housing the homeless, ministering to the needy, providing day care services and scholarships and prison ministries, and reaching out to those suffering from HIV/AIDS.

In my first book, Dreams From My Father, I describe the experience of my first service at Trinity:

"People began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverend's voice up into the rafters. And in that single note — hope! — I heard something else: At the foot of that cross, inside the thousands of churches across the city, I imagined the stories of ordinary black people merging with the stories of David and Goliath, Moses and Pharaoh, the Christians in the lion's den, Ezekiel's field of dry bones. Those stories — of survival and freedom and hope — became our stories, my story. The blood that spilled was our blood, the tears our tears, until this black church, on this bright day, seemed once more a vessel carrying the story of a people into future generations and into a larger world. Our trials and triumphs became at once unique and universal, black and more than black. In chronicling our journey, the stories and songs gave us a meaning to reclaim memories that we didn't need to feel shame about — memories that all people might study and cherish, and with which we could start to rebuild."

That has been my experience at Trinity. Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety — the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinity's services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing and clapping and screaming and shouting that may seem jarring to the untrained ear. The church contains in full the kindness and cruelty, the fierce intelligence and the shocking ignorance, the struggles and successes, the love and, yes, the bitterness and biases that make up the black experience in America.

And this helps explain, perhaps, my relationship with Reverend Wright. As imperfect as he may be, he has been like family to me. He strengthened my faith, officiated my wedding, and baptized my children. Not once in my conversations with him have I heard him talk about any ethnic group in derogatory terms, or treat whites with whom he interacted with anything but courtesy and respect. He contains within him the contradictions — the good and the bad — of the community that he has served diligently for so many years.

I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community. I can no more disown him than I can disown my white grandmother — a woman who helped raise me, a woman who sacrificed again and again for me, a woman who loves me as much as she loves anything in this world, but a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed her by on the street, and who on more than one occasion has uttered racial or ethnic stereotypes that made me cringe.

These people are a part of me. And they are part of America, this country that I love.

Some will see this as an attempt to justify or excuse comments that are simply inexcusable. I can assure you it is not. I suppose the politically safe thing to do would be to move on from this episode and just hope that it fades into the woodwork. We can dismiss Reverend Wright as a crank or a demagogue, just as some have dismissed Geraldine Ferraro, in the aftermath of her recent statements, as harboring some deep-seated bias.

But race is an issue that I believe this nation cannot afford to ignore right now. We would be making the same mistake that Reverend Wright made in his offending sermons about America — to simplify and stereotype and amplify the negative to the point that it distorts reality.

The fact is that the comments that have been made and the issues that have surfaced over the last few weeks reflect the complexities of race in this country that we've never really worked through — a part of our union that we have not yet made perfect. And if we walk away now, if we simply retreat into our respective corners, we will never be able to come together and solve challenges like health care or education or the need to find good jobs for every American.

Understanding this reality requires a reminder of how we arrived at this point. As William Faulkner once wrote, "The past isn't dead and buried. In fact, it isn't even past." We do not need to recite here the history of racial injustice in this country. But we do need to remind ourselves that so many of the disparities that exist between the African-American community and the larger American community today can be traced directly to inequalities passed on from an earlier generation that suffered under the brutal legacy of slavery and Jim Crow.

Segregated schools were and are inferior schools; we still haven't fixed them, 50 years after Brown v. Board of Education. And the inferior education they provided, then and now, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between today's black and white students.

Legalized discrimination — where blacks were prevented, often through violence, from owning property, or loans were not granted to African-American business owners, or black homeowners could not access FHA mortgages, or blacks were excluded from unions or the police force or the fire department — meant that black families could not amass any meaningful wealth to bequeath to future generations. That history helps explain the wealth and income gap between blacks and whites, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persist in so many of today's urban and rural communities.

A lack of economic opportunity among black men, and the shame and frustration that came from not being able to provide for one's family contributed to the erosion of black families — a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened. And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods — parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pickup, building code enforcement — all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continues to haunt us.

This is the reality in which Reverend Wright and other African-Americans of his generation grew up. They came of age in the late '50s and early '60s, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted. What's remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but how many men and women overcame the odds; how many were able to make a way out of no way, for those like me who would come after them.

For all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didn't make it — those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination. That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations — those young men and, increasingly, young women who we see standing on street corners or languishing in our prisons, without hope or prospects for the future. Even for those blacks who did make it, questions of race and racism continue to define their worldview in fundamental ways. For the men and women of Reverend Wright's generation, the memories of humiliation and doubt and fear have not gone away; nor has the anger and the bitterness of those years. That anger may not get expressed in public, in front of white co-workers or white friends. But it does find voice in the barbershop or the beauty shop or around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicians, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politician's own failings.

And occasionally it finds voice in the church on Sunday morning, in the pulpit and in the pews. The fact that so many people are surprised to hear that anger in some of Reverend Wright's sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour of American life occurs on Sunday morning. That anger is not always productive; indeed, all too often it distracts attention from solving real problems; it keeps us from squarely facing our own complicity within the African-American community in our condition, and prevents the African-American community from forging the alliances it needs to bring about real change. But the anger is real; it is powerful. And to simply wish it away, to condemn it without understanding its roots, only serves to widen the chasm of misunderstanding that exists between the races.

In fact, a similar anger exists within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans don't feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience — as far as they're concerned, no one handed them anything. They built it from scratch. They've worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pensions dumped after a lifetime of labor. They are anxious about their futures, and they feel their dreams slipping away. And in an era of stagnant wages and global competition, opportunity comes to be seen as a zero sum game, in which your dreams come at my expense. So when they are told to bus their children to a school across town; when they hear an African-American is getting an advantage in landing a good job or a spot in a good college because of an injustice that they themselves never committed; when they're told that their fears about crime in urban neighborhoods are somehow prejudiced, resentment builds over time.

Like the anger within the black community, these resentments aren't always expressed in polite company. But they have helped shape the political landscape for at least a generation. Anger over welfare and affirmative action helped forge the Reagan Coalition. Politicians routinely exploited fears of crime for their own electoral ends. Talk show hosts and conservative commentators built entire careers unmasking bogus claims of racism while dismissing legitimate discussions of racial injustice and inequality as mere political correctness or reverse racism.

Just as black anger often proved counterproductive, so have these white resentments distracted attention from the real culprits of the middle class squeeze — a corporate culture rife with inside dealing, questionable accounting practices and short-term greed; a Washington dominated by lobbyists and special interests; economic policies that favor the few over the many. And yet, to wish away the resentments of white Americans, to label them as misguided or even racist, without recognizing they are grounded in legitimate concerns — this too widens the racial divide and blocks the path to understanding.

This is where we are right now. It's a racial stalemate we've been stuck in for years. Contrary to the claims of some of my critics, black and white, I have never been so naïve as to believe that we can get beyond our racial divisions in a single election cycle, or with a single candidacy — particularly a candidacy as imperfect as my own.

But I have asserted a firm conviction — a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people — that, working together, we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice if we are to continue on the path of a more perfect union.

For the African-American community, that path means embracing the burdens of our past without becoming victims of our past. It means continuing to insist on a full measure of justice in every aspect of American life. But it also means binding our particular grievances — for better health care and better schools and better jobs — to the larger aspirations of all Americans: the white woman struggling to break the glass ceiling, the white man who has been laid off, the immigrant trying to feed his family. And it means taking full responsibility for our own lives — by demanding more from our fathers, and spending more time with our children, and reading to them, and teaching them that while they may face challenges and discrimination in their own lives, they must never succumb to despair or cynicism; they must always believe that they can write their own destiny.

Ironically, this quintessentially American — and yes, conservative — notion of self-help found frequent expression in Reverend Wright's sermons. But what my former pastor too often failed to understand is that embarking on a program of self-help also requires a belief that society can change.

The profound mistake of Reverend Wright's sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. It's that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress had been made; as if this country — a country that has made it possible for one of his own members to run for the highest office in the land and build a coalition of white and black, Latino and Asian, rich and poor, young and old — is still irrevocably bound to a tragic past. But what we know — what we have seen — is that America can change. That is the true genius of this nation. What we have already achieved gives us hope — the audacity to hope — for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

In the white community, the path to a more perfect union means acknowledging that what ails the African-American community does not just exist in the minds of black people; that the legacy of discrimination — and current incidents of discrimination, while less overt than in the past — are real and must be addressed, not just with words, but with deeds, by investing in our schools and our communities; by enforcing our civil rights laws and ensuring fairness in our criminal justice system; by providing this generation with ladders of opportunity that were unavailable for previous generations. It requires all Americans to realize that your dreams do not have to come at the expense of my dreams; that investing in the health, welfare and education of black and brown and white children will ultimately help all of America prosper.

In the end, then, what is called for is nothing more and nothing less than what all the world's great religions demand — that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us be our brother's keeper, scripture tells us. Let us be our sister's keeper. Let us find that common stake we all have in one another, and let our politics reflect that spirit as well.

For we have a choice in this country. We can accept a politics that breeds division and conflict and cynicism. We can tackle race only as spectacle — as we did in the O.J. trial — or in the wake of tragedy — as we did in the aftermath of Katrina — or as fodder for the nightly news. We can play Reverend Wright's sermons on every channel, every day and talk about them from now until the election, and make the only question in this campaign whether or not the American people think that I somehow believe or sympathize with his most offensive words. We can pounce on some gaffe by a Hillary supporter as evidence that she's playing the race card, or we can speculate on whether white men will all flock to John McCain in the general election regardless of his policies.

We can do that.

But if we do, I can tell you that in the next election, we'll be talking about some other distraction. And then another one. And then another one. And nothing will change.

That is one option. Or, at this moment, in this election, we can come together and say, "Not this time." This time, we want to talk about the crumbling schools that are stealing the future of black children and white children and Asian children and Hispanic children and Native American children. This time, we want to reject the cynicism that tells us that these kids can't learn; that those kids who don't look like us are somebody else's problem. The children of America are not those kids, they are our kids, and we will not let them fall behind in a 21st century economy. Not this time.

This time we want to talk about how the lines in the emergency room are filled with whites and blacks and Hispanics who do not have health care, who don't have the power on their own to overcome the special interests in Washington, but who can take them on if we do it together.

This time, we want to talk about the shuttered mills that once provided a decent life for men and women of every race, and the homes for sale that once belonged to Americans from every religion, every region, every walk of life. This time, we want to talk about the fact that the real problem is not that someone who doesn't look like you might take your job; it's that the corporation you work for will ship it overseas for nothing more than a profit.

This time, we want to talk about the men and women of every color and creed who serve together and fight together and bleed together under the same proud flag. We want to talk about how to bring them home from a war that should have never been authorized and should have never been waged. And we want to talk about how we'll show our patriotism by caring for them and their families, and giving them the benefits that they have earned.

I would not be running for President if I didn't believe with all my heart that this is what the vast majority of Americans want for this country. This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected. And today, whenever I find myself feeling doubtful or cynical about this possibility, what gives me the most hope is the next generation — the young people whose attitudes and beliefs and openness to change have already made history in this election.

There is one story in particularly that I'd like to leave you with today — a story I told when I had the great honor of speaking on Dr. King's birthday at his home church, Ebenezer Baptist, in Atlanta.

There is a young, 23-year-old white woman named Ashley Baia who organized for our campaign in Florence, S.C. She had been working to organize a mostly African-American community since the beginning of this campaign, and one day she was at a roundtable discussion where everyone went around telling their story and why they were there.

And Ashley said that when she was 9 years old, her mother got cancer. And because she had to miss days of work, she was let go and lost her health care. They had to file for bankruptcy, and that's when Ashley decided that she had to do something to help her mom.

She knew that food was one of their most expensive costs, and so Ashley convinced her mother that what she really liked and really wanted to eat more than anything else was mustard and relish sandwiches — because that was the cheapest way to eat. That's the mind of a 9-year-old.

She did this for a year until her mom got better. So she told everyone at the roundtable that the reason she joined our campaign was so that she could help the millions of other children in the country who want and need to help their parents, too.

Now, Ashley might have made a different choice. Perhaps somebody told her along the way that the source of her mother's problems were blacks who were on welfare and too lazy to work, or Hispanics who were coming into the country illegally. But she didn't. She sought out allies in her fight against injustice.

Anyway, Ashley finishes her story and then goes around the room and asks everyone else why they're supporting the campaign. They all have different stories and different reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And finally they come to this elderly black man who's been sitting there quietly the entire time. And Ashley asks him why he's there. And he does not bring up a specific issue. He does not say health care or the economy. He does not say education or the war. He does not say that he was there because of Barack Obama. He simply says to everyone in the room, "I am here because of Ashley."

"I'm here because of Ashley." By itself, that single moment of recognition between that young white girl and that old black man is not enough. It is not enough to give health care to the sick, or jobs to the jobless, or education to our children.

But it is where we start. It is where our union grows stronger. And as so many generations have come to realize over the course of the 221 years since a band of patriots signed that document right here in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins.