
Bilag #4
Barack Obama speech. July 27. 2004 at the Democratic National Convention
(A) On behalf of the great state of Illinois, crossroads of a nation, land of Lincoln, let me express my
deep gratitude for the privilege of addressing this convention. Tonight is a particular honor for me
because, let's 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.
(B) 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, which stood 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 he signed up for duty, joined Patton's army
and marched across Europe. Back home, my grandmother raised their baby and went to work on a
bomber assembly line. After the war, they studied on the GI Bill, bought a house through FHA, and
moved west in search of opportunity.
(C) 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 "blessed," believing that in a tolerant
America your name is no barrier to success. They imagined me going to the best schools in the land,
even though they weren't rich, because in a generous America you don't have to be rich to achieve your
potential. They are both passed away now. Yet, I know that, on this night, they look down on me with
pride.
(D) I stand here today, grateful for the diversity of my heritage, aware that my parents' dreams live on
in my 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 he 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."
(E) That is the true genius of America, a faith in the simple dreams of its people, the insistence on
small miracles. That we can tuck in our children at night and know 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 or hiring
somebody's son. That we can participate in the political process without fear of retribution, and that our
votes will he counted ? or at least, most of the time.
(F) This year, in this election, we are called to reaffirm our values and commitments, to hold them
against a hard reality and see how we are 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 to do for the workers I met in Galesburg, Illinois, who
are losing their union jobs at the Maytag plant that's 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 I met who was
losing his job and choking back tears, wondering how he would pay $4,500 a month for the drugs his
son needs without the health benefits 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 doesn't have the
money to go to college.
(G) Don't get me wrong. The people I meet in small towns and big cities, in diners and office parks,
they don't 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 don't
want their tax money wasted by a welfare agency or the Pentagon. Go into any inner city
neighborhood, and folks will tell you that government alone can't teach kids to learn. They know that
parents have to parent, that children can't 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. No, people
don't expect government to solve all their problems. But they sense, deep in their bones, that with just a