Downloads & Free Reading Options - Results

Focus on the Family's Tim Goeglein argued that American children aren't being taught enough civics and American history in school. This event was held at Hillsdale College's Washington, DC, venue. Sponsor: Hillsdale College | Kirby Center for Constitutional Studies and Citizenship

Focus on the Family's Tim Goeglein argued that American children aren't being taught enough civics and American history in school. This event was held at Hillsdale College's Washington, DC, venue. Sponsor: Hillsdale College | Kirby Center for Constitutional Studies and Citizenship

Focus on the Family's Tim Goeglein argued that American children aren't being taught enough civics and American history in school. This event was held at Hillsdale College's Washington, DC, venue. Sponsor: Hillsdale College | Kirby Center for Constitutional Studies and Citizenship

Focus on the Family's Tim Goeglein argued that American children aren't being taught enough civics and American history in school. This event was held at Hillsdale College's Washington, DC, venue. Sponsor: Hillsdale College | Kirby Center for Constitutional Studies and Citizenship

Focus on the Family's Tim Goeglein argued that American children aren't being taught enough civics and American history in school. This event was held at Hillsdale College's Washington, DC, venue. Sponsor: Hillsdale College | Kirby Center for Constitutional Studies and Citizenship

Vice President @Mike_Pence: “We have been on a relentless journey towards a more perfect union" https://t.co/hMGydmx6QQ Source: https://twitter.com/TeamTrump/status/1280638316002652163 Uploader: Team Trump (Text VOTE to 88022)

An Hour with David Swanson on Mobilizing for Peace and to Form a More Perfect Union October 3rd, 2009 Talk Nation Radio Special An Hour with David Swanson on Mobilizing for Peace and to Form a More Perfect Union David Swanson is author of the new book, Daybreak, Undoing the Imperial Presidency and forming a More Perfect Union, from Seven Stories Press. David Swanson is the co-founder of After Downing Street, a coalition that formed after discovery of key documents on the British role in planning and carrying out the 2003 invasion of Iraq. He is creator of ProsecuteBushCheney.org and Washington Director of Democrats.com, and a board member of Progressive Democrats for America. He was press secretary to Democratic Ohio Rep. Dennis Kucinich during his Presidential Campaign of 2004. WhoDecidesAboutWar.org Nogoodwar.org Produced by Dori Smith TRT:59:46 (links coming soon) Download at Pacificaâs Audioport or try Radio4all.net and Archive.org Mobilization for Peace Boston OCT 17th! New England Demonstrates Against the Wars in Afghanistan, Pakistan & Iraq See also: Promoting Enduring Peace

Tracklist: 1. Find The Truth 2. I Don't Know You Now 3. Dancin' With Mother Mary 4. Move Mountains 5. Neptune 6. Alien March 7. I'm Not Angry 8. Seasons 9. You Got It 10. Star-Spangled Eyes 11. Hollywood

Here's another Regular Low Tone video.

Voting is an act of hope. It reflects faith in democracy, and its power to make our union more perfect. We believe in a better tomorrow, made possible by action today. New Hampshire, your hope has powered our movement, and tonight is our moment. Let's finish strong. https://t.co/PgyJsRrHIa Source: https://twitter.com/PeteButtigieg/status/1227377797997514753 Uploader: Pete Buttigieg

Describes how the Constitution was drafted and ratified

Describes how the Constitution was drafted and ratified

Describes how the Constitution was drafted and ratified

Focus on the Family's Tim Goeglein argued that American children aren't being taught enough civics and American history in school. This event was held at Hillsdale College's Washington, DC, venue. Sponsor: Hillsdale College | Kirby Center for Constitutional Studies and Citizenship

Focus on the Family's Tim Goeglein argued that American children aren't being taught enough civics and American history in school. This event was held at Hillsdale College's Washington, DC, venue. Sponsor: Hillsdale College | Kirby Center for Constitutional Studies and Citizenship

Focus on the Family's Tim Goeglein argued that American children aren't being taught enough civics and American history in school. This event was held at Hillsdale College's Washington, DC, venue. Sponsor: Hillsdale College | Kirby Center for Constitutional Studies and Citizenship

A music video tribute in support of Barack Obama. www.BarackObamasongs.com www.ngoziazaka.com

Perma.cc archive of https://www.pbs.org/wnet/more-less-perfect-union/video/series-preview/ created on 2022-04-01 22:35:01.394673+00:00.

Perma.cc archive of https://www.pbs.org/wnet/more-less-perfect-union/video/series-preview/ created on 2022-04-01 22:35:01.394673+00:00.

Focus on the Family's Tim Goeglein argued that American children aren't being taught enough civics and American history in school. This event was held at Hillsdale College's Washington, DC, venue. Sponsor: Hillsdale College | Kirby Center for Constitutional Studies and Citizenship

Focus on the Family's Tim Goeglein argued that American children aren't being taught enough civics and American history in school. This event was held at Hillsdale College's Washington, DC, venue. Sponsor: Hillsdale College | Kirby Center for Constitutional Studies and Citizenship

DeRay McKesson recalls growing up and youth organizing in Baltimore. He discusses Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Ferguson, the Black Lives Matter movement meeting with Barack Obama and the role of social media and the press during the protests. DeRay Mckesson is a civil rights activist, focusing primarily on issues of innovation, equity, and justice. While he began organizing as a teenager around issues related to children, youth, and families, it was not until the death of Mike Brown in 2014 that McKesson became a key player in the work to confront the systems and structures that have led to mass incarceration and police killings of Black and other minority populations. As a leading voice in the Black Lives Matter Movement and a co-founder of Campaign Zero, Mckesson has worked to connect individuals with knowledge and tools as well as provide citizens and policymakers with commonsense policies that ensure equity. In 2016, he was part of a civil rights leaders meeting at the White House with President Obama for a Black History Month event and has since been praised by Obama for his work as a community organizer. McKesson frequently appears on national media outlets and has been highlighted in a range of publications. From the 2021 three-part HBO documentary series Obama: In Pursuit Of A More Perfect Union. The personal and political journey of President Barack Obama is explored that weaves together conversations with colleagues, friends, and critics, alongside his own speeches and interviews. Subscribe for access to hours of personal memories and lessons from some of the most influential people of our time. Kunhardt Film Foundation is a not-for-profit educational media organization that produces documentary films, interviews, and teaching tools about the people and ideas that shape our world. Learn more about our work and how to support our mission: http://www.kunhardtfilmfoundation.org Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kunhardtfilmfoundation/ DeRay McKesson, Activist Interviewed By: Teddy Kunhardt Interview Date: March 3, 2020 © Home Box Office and Kunhardt Film Foundation. All Rights Reserved.

Focus on the Family's Tim Goeglein argued that American children aren't being taught enough civics and American history in school. This event was held at Hillsdale College's Washington, DC, venue. Sponsor: Hillsdale College | Kirby Center for Constitutional Studies and Citizenship

Focus on the Family's Tim Goeglein argued that American children aren't being taught enough civics and American history in school. This event was held at Hillsdale College's Washington, DC, venue. Sponsor: Hillsdale College | Kirby Center for Constitutional Studies and Citizenship

Focus on the Family's Tim Goeglein argued that American children aren't being taught enough civics and American history in school. This event was held at Hillsdale College's Washington, DC, venue. Sponsor: Hillsdale College | Kirby Center for Constitutional Studies and Citizenship

The Golden Valley League of Women Voters wants you to join the conversation. They are hosting a series of conversations about the United States Constitution in a relaxed setting. http://twelve.tv/ http://www.facebook.com/12localnews http://twitter.com/12LocalNews 12 News is on Comcast cable channel 12 in the northwest suburbs of Minneapolis and includes the cities Brooklyn Center, Brooklyn Park, Crystal, Golden Valley, Maple Grove, New Hope, Osseo, Plymouth and Robbinsdale.

The Golden Valley League of Women Voters wants you to join the conversation. They are hosting a series of conversations about the United States Constitution in a relaxed setting. http://twelve.tv/ http://www.facebook.com/12localnews http://twitter.com/12LocalNews 12 News is on Comcast cable channel 12 in the northwest suburbs of Minneapolis and includes the cities Brooklyn Center, Brooklyn Park, Crystal, Golden Valley, Maple Grove, New Hope, Osseo, Plymouth and Robbinsdale.

Watch Associate Professor of Social Sciences Dr. Adam Shprintzen, Chair of the Religious Studies Department Sr. Mary Ann Zimmer, and Refugee Resettlement Program Translator and Refugee Mark Ngongo discuss the issue of immigrants and refugees.

Watch Associate Professor of Social Sciences Dr. Adam Shprintzen, Chair of the Religious Studies Department Sr. Mary Ann Zimmer, and Refugee Resettlement Program Translator and Refugee Mark Ngongo discuss the issue of immigrants and refugees.

Watch Associate Professor of Social Sciences Dr. Adam Shprintzen, Chair of the Religious Studies Department Sr. Mary Ann Zimmer, and Refugee Resettlement Program Translator and Refugee Mark Ngongo discuss the issue of immigrants and refugees.

Watch Associate Professor of Social Sciences Dr. Adam Shprintzen, Chair of the Religious Studies Department Sr. Mary Ann Zimmer, and Refugee Resettlement Program Translator and Refugee Mark Ngongo discuss the issue of immigrants and refugees.

Alistair Cooke reflects on Clinton's State of the Union address and asks why the only national holiday named after a human being is Rev. Martin Luther King Day.

Alistair Cooke reflects on Clinton's State of the Union address and asks why the only national holiday named after a human being is Rev. Martin Luther King Day.

Barack Obama speech "A More Perfect Union" given in Philadelphia, PA on March 18, 2008. http://my.barackobama.com/page/community/post/samgrahamfelsen/gGBbKG "A More Perfect Union" 20080318 Post from Sam Graham-Felsen's Blog: http://my.barackobama.com/page/community/person/gGxtkQ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWe7wTVbLUU http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/23691239#23691239 As Prepared for Delivery... âWe the people, in order to form a more perfect union.â Two hundred and twenty one years ago, in a hall that still stands across the street, a group of men gathered and, with these simple words, launched Americaâs 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 nationâs 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 twenty 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 â a Constitution that had at is 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 â through protests and struggle, 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 campaign â 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 the presidency at this moment in history because I believe deeply that we cannot solve the challenges of our time unless we solve them together â 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 â towards a better future for of 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 American 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 Pattonâs Army during World War II and a white grandmother who worked on a bomber assembly line at Fort Leavenworth while he was overseas. Iâve gone to some of the best schools in America and lived in one of the worldâs poorest nations. I am married to a black American who carries within her the blood of slaves and slaveowners â 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. Itâs a story that hasnât made me the most conventional candidate. 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 â 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 the campaign. At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either âtoo blackâ or ânot black enough.â We saw racial tensions bubble to the surface during the week before the South Carolina primary. The press has scoured every 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, weâve heard the implication that my candidacy is somehow an exercise in affirmative action; that itâs based solely on the desire of wide-eyed liberals to purchase racial reconciliation on the cheap. On the other end, weâve heard my former pastor, Reverend 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; that rightly offend white and black alike. I have already condemned, in unequivocal terms, the statements of Reverend Wright that have caused such controversy. 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 church? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views? Absolutely â just as Iâm 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 werenât simply controversial. They werenât simply a religious leaderâs effort to speak out against perceived injustice. Instead, they expressed a profoundly distorted view of this country â 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 Wrightâs 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 â 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 and You Tube, 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 isnât all that I know of the man. The man I met more than twenty 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 U.S. Marine; who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over thirty years led a church that serves the community by doing Godâs work here on Earth â 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 described the experience of my first service at Trinity: âPeople began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverendâs voice up into the raftersâ¦.And in that single note â hope! â 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 lionâs den, Ezekielâs field of dry bones. Those stories â of survival, and freedom, and hope â became our story, my story; the blood that had 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 means to reclaim memories tha t we didnât need to feel shame aboutâ¦memories that all people might study and cherish â and with which we could start to rebuild.â That has been my experience at Trinity. Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety â the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinityâs services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, 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 bias 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 â the good and the bad â 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 my white grandmother â 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 by her 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 a 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 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 racial 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 â 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 weâve never really worked through â a part of our union that we have yet to 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, âThe past isnât dead and buried. In fact, it isnât even past.â 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 in the African-American community today can be directly traced 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 havenât fixed them, fifty years after Brown v. Board of Education, and the inferior education they provided, then and now, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between todayâs 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 fire departments â 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 black and white, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persists in so many of todayâs 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 oneâs family, contributed to the erosion of black families â a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened. And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods â parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pick-up and building code enforcement â all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue 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 fifties and early sixties, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted. Whatâs remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but rather 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. But for all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didnât make it â those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination. That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations â 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 Wrightâs 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 around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicia ns, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politicianâs 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 Wrightâs sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in 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 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 donât feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience â as far as theyâre concerned, no oneâs handed them anything, theyâve built it from scratch. Theyâve worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor. They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away; 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 that 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 committ ed; when theyâre 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 arenât 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 â 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 â this too widens the racial divide, and blocks the path to understanding. This is where we are right now. Itâs a racial stalemate weâve 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 â particularly a candidacy as imperfect as my own. But I have asserted a firm conviction â a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people â that working together we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice is 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 â 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 whose been laid off, the immigrant trying to feed his family. And it means taking full responsibility for own lives â 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 â and yes, conservative â notion of self-help found frequent expression in Reverend Wrightâs 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 Wrightâs sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. Itâs that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress has been made; as if this country â 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 â is that America can change. That is true genius of this nation. What we have already achieved gives us hope â the audacity to hope â 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 â 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 worldâs great religions demand â that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us be our brotherâs keeper, Scripture tells us. Let us be our sisterâs 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 â as we did in the OJ trial â 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 Wrightâs 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 sheâs 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, weâll 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, âNot this time.â 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 canât learn; that those kids who donât look like us are somebody elseâs 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 donât 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 doesnât look like you might take your job; itâs 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 never shouldâve been authorized and never shouldâve been waged, and we want to talk about how weâll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned. I would not be running for President if I didnât 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 â 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 Iâd like to leave you with today â a story I told when I had the great honor of speaking on Dr. Kingâs birthday at his home church, Ebenezer Baptist, in Atlanta. There is a young, twenty-three year old white woman named Ashley Baia who organized for our campaign in Florence, South Carolina. 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 nine 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 thatâs 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. She did this for a year until her mom got better, and 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 motherâs problems were blacks who were on welfare and too lazy to work, or Hispanics who were coming into the country illegally. But she didnât. 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 theyâre supporting the campaign. They all have different stories and reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And finally they come to this elderly black man whoâs been sitting there quietly the entire time. And Ashley asks him why heâs 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, âI am here because of Ashley.â âIâm here because of Ashley.â 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 two-hundred and twenty one years since a band of patriots signed that document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins.

Barack Obama speech "A More Perfect Union" given in Philadelphia, PA on March 18, 2008. http://my.barackobama.com/page/community/post/samgrahamfelsen/gGBbKG "A More Perfect Union" 20080318 Post from Sam Graham-Felsen's Blog: http://my.barackobama.com/page/community/person/gGxtkQ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWe7wTVbLUU http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/23691239#23691239 As Prepared for Delivery... âWe the people, in order to form a more perfect union.â Two hundred and twenty one years ago, in a hall that still stands across the street, a group of men gathered and, with these simple words, launched Americaâs 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 nationâs 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 twenty 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 â a Constitution that had at is 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 â through protests and struggle, 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 campaign â 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 the presidency at this moment in history because I believe deeply that we cannot solve the challenges of our time unless we solve them together â 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 â towards a better future for of 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 American 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 Pattonâs Army during World War II and a white grandmother who worked on a bomber assembly line at Fort Leavenworth while he was overseas. Iâve gone to some of the best schools in America and lived in one of the worldâs poorest nations. I am married to a black American who carries within her the blood of slaves and slaveowners â 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. Itâs a story that hasnât made me the most conventional candidate. 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 â 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 the campaign. At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either âtoo blackâ or ânot black enough.â We saw racial tensions bubble to the surface during the week before the South Carolina primary. The press has scoured every 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, weâve heard the implication that my candidacy is somehow an exercise in affirmative action; that itâs based solely on the desire of wide-eyed liberals to purchase racial reconciliation on the cheap. On the other end, weâve heard my former pastor, Reverend 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; that rightly offend white and black alike. I have already condemned, in unequivocal terms, the statements of Reverend Wright that have caused such controversy. 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 church? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views? Absolutely â just as Iâm 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 werenât simply controversial. They werenât simply a religious leaderâs effort to speak out against perceived injustice. Instead, they expressed a profoundly distorted view of this country â 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 Wrightâs 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 â 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 and You Tube, 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 isnât all that I know of the man. The man I met more than twenty 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 U.S. Marine; who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over thirty years led a church that serves the community by doing Godâs work here on Earth â 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 described the experience of my first service at Trinity: âPeople began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverendâs voice up into the raftersâ¦.And in that single note â hope! â 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 lionâs den, Ezekielâs field of dry bones. Those stories â of survival, and freedom, and hope â became our story, my story; the blood that had 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 means to reclaim memories tha t we didnât need to feel shame aboutâ¦memories that all people might study and cherish â and with which we could start to rebuild.â That has been my experience at Trinity. Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety â the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinityâs services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, 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 bias 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 â the good and the bad â 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 my white grandmother â 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 by her 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 a 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 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 racial 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 â 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 weâve never really worked through â a part of our union that we have yet to 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, âThe past isnât dead and buried. In fact, it isnât even past.â 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 in the African-American community today can be directly traced 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 havenât fixed them, fifty years after Brown v. Board of Education, and the inferior education they provided, then and now, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between todayâs 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 fire departments â 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 black and white, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persists in so many of todayâs 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 oneâs family, contributed to the erosion of black families â a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened. And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods â parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pick-up and building code enforcement â all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue 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 fifties and early sixties, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted. Whatâs remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but rather 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. But for all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didnât make it â those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination. That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations â 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 Wrightâs 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 around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicia ns, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politicianâs 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 Wrightâs sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in 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 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 donât feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience â as far as theyâre concerned, no oneâs handed them anything, theyâve built it from scratch. Theyâve worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor. They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away; 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 that 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 committ ed; when theyâre 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 arenât 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 â 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 â this too widens the racial divide, and blocks the path to understanding. This is where we are right now. Itâs a racial stalemate weâve 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 â particularly a candidacy as imperfect as my own. But I have asserted a firm conviction â a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people â that working together we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice is 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 â 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 whose been laid off, the immigrant trying to feed his family. And it means taking full responsibility for own lives â 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 â and yes, conservative â notion of self-help found frequent expression in Reverend Wrightâs 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 Wrightâs sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. Itâs that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress has been made; as if this country â 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 â is that America can change. That is true genius of this nation. What we have already achieved gives us hope â the audacity to hope â 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 â 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 worldâs great religions demand â that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us be our brotherâs keeper, Scripture tells us. Let us be our sisterâs 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 â as we did in the OJ trial â 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 Wrightâs 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 sheâs 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, weâll 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, âNot this time.â 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 canât learn; that those kids who donât look like us are somebody elseâs 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 donât 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 doesnât look like you might take your job; itâs 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 never shouldâve been authorized and never shouldâve been waged, and we want to talk about how weâll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned. I would not be running for President if I didnât 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 â 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 Iâd like to leave you with today â a story I told when I had the great honor of speaking on Dr. Kingâs birthday at his home church, Ebenezer Baptist, in Atlanta. There is a young, twenty-three year old white woman named Ashley Baia who organized for our campaign in Florence, South Carolina. 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 nine 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 thatâs 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. She did this for a year until her mom got better, and 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 motherâs problems were blacks who were on welfare and too lazy to work, or Hispanics who were coming into the country illegally. But she didnât. 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 theyâre supporting the campaign. They all have different stories and reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And finally they come to this elderly black man whoâs been sitting there quietly the entire time. And Ashley asks him why heâs 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, âI am here because of Ashley.â âIâm here because of Ashley.â 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 two-hundred and twenty one years since a band of patriots signed that document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins.

Barack Obama speech "A More Perfect Union" given in Philadelphia, PA on March 18, 2008. http://my.barackobama.com/page/community/post/samgrahamfelsen/gGBbKG "A More Perfect Union" 20080318 Post from Sam Graham-Felsen's Blog: http://my.barackobama.com/page/community/person/gGxtkQ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWe7wTVbLUU http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/23691239#23691239 As Prepared for Delivery... âWe the people, in order to form a more perfect union.â Two hundred and twenty one years ago, in a hall that still stands across the street, a group of men gathered and, with these simple words, launched Americaâs 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 nationâs 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 twenty 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 â a Constitution that had at is 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 â through protests and struggle, 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 campaign â 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 the presidency at this moment in history because I believe deeply that we cannot solve the challenges of our time unless we solve them together â 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 â towards a better future for of 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 American 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 Pattonâs Army during World War II and a white grandmother who worked on a bomber assembly line at Fort Leavenworth while he was overseas. Iâve gone to some of the best schools in America and lived in one of the worldâs poorest nations. I am married to a black American who carries within her the blood of slaves and slaveowners â 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. Itâs a story that hasnât made me the most conventional candidate. 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 â 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 the campaign. At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either âtoo blackâ or ânot black enough.â We saw racial tensions bubble to the surface during the week before the South Carolina primary. The press has scoured every 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, weâve heard the implication that my candidacy is somehow an exercise in affirmative action; that itâs based solely on the desire of wide-eyed liberals to purchase racial reconciliation on the cheap. On the other end, weâve heard my former pastor, Reverend 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; that rightly offend white and black alike. I have already condemned, in unequivocal terms, the statements of Reverend Wright that have caused such controversy. 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 church? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views? Absolutely â just as Iâm 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 werenât simply controversial. They werenât simply a religious leaderâs effort to speak out against perceived injustice. Instead, they expressed a profoundly distorted view of this country â 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 Wrightâs 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 â 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 and You Tube, 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 isnât all that I know of the man. The man I met more than twenty 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 U.S. Marine; who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over thirty years led a church that serves the community by doing Godâs work here on Earth â 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 described the experience of my first service at Trinity: âPeople began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverendâs voice up into the raftersâ¦.And in that single note â hope! â 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 lionâs den, Ezekielâs field of dry bones. Those stories â of survival, and freedom, and hope â became our story, my story; the blood that had 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 means to reclaim memories tha t we didnât need to feel shame aboutâ¦memories that all people might study and cherish â and with which we could start to rebuild.â That has been my experience at Trinity. Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety â the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinityâs services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, 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 bias 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 â the good and the bad â 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 my white grandmother â 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 by her 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 a 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 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 racial 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 â 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 weâve never really worked through â a part of our union that we have yet to 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, âThe past isnât dead and buried. In fact, it isnât even past.â 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 in the African-American community today can be directly traced 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 havenât fixed them, fifty years after Brown v. Board of Education, and the inferior education they provided, then and now, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between todayâs 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 fire departments â 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 black and white, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persists in so many of todayâs 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 oneâs family, contributed to the erosion of black families â a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened. And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods â parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pick-up and building code enforcement â all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue 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 fifties and early sixties, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted. Whatâs remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but rather 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. But for all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didnât make it â those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination. That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations â 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 Wrightâs 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 around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicia ns, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politicianâs 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 Wrightâs sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in 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 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 donât feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience â as far as theyâre concerned, no oneâs handed them anything, theyâve built it from scratch. Theyâve worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor. They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away; 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 that 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 committ ed; when theyâre 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 arenât 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 â 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 â this too widens the racial divide, and blocks the path to understanding. This is where we are right now. Itâs a racial stalemate weâve 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 â particularly a candidacy as imperfect as my own. But I have asserted a firm conviction â a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people â that working together we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice is 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 â 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 whose been laid off, the immigrant trying to feed his family. And it means taking full responsibility for own lives â 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 â and yes, conservative â notion of self-help found frequent expression in Reverend Wrightâs 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 Wrightâs sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. Itâs that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress has been made; as if this country â 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 â is that America can change. That is true genius of this nation. What we have already achieved gives us hope â the audacity to hope â 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 â 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 worldâs great religions demand â that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us be our brotherâs keeper, Scripture tells us. Let us be our sisterâs 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 â as we did in the OJ trial â 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 Wrightâs 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 sheâs 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, weâll 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, âNot this time.â 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 canât learn; that those kids who donât look like us are somebody elseâs 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 donât 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 doesnât look like you might take your job; itâs 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 never shouldâve been authorized and never shouldâve been waged, and we want to talk about how weâll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned. I would not be running for President if I didnât 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 â 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 Iâd like to leave you with today â a story I told when I had the great honor of speaking on Dr. Kingâs birthday at his home church, Ebenezer Baptist, in Atlanta. There is a young, twenty-three year old white woman named Ashley Baia who organized for our campaign in Florence, South Carolina. 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 nine 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 thatâs 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. She did this for a year until her mom got better, and 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 motherâs problems were blacks who were on welfare and too lazy to work, or Hispanics who were coming into the country illegally. But she didnât. 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 theyâre supporting the campaign. They all have different stories and reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And finally they come to this elderly black man whoâs been sitting there quietly the entire time. And Ashley asks him why heâs 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, âI am here because of Ashley.â âIâm here because of Ashley.â 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 two-hundred and twenty one years since a band of patriots signed that document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins.

A special event, in conversation with U.S. Court of Appeals Judge Douglas H. Ginsburg—a national authority on the Constitution, and host of A More or Less Perfect Union (2020). This program was recorded by Chicago Access Network Television (CAN TV).

A special event, in conversation with U.S. Court of Appeals Judge Douglas H. Ginsburg—a national authority on the Constitution, and host of A More or Less Perfect Union (2020). This program was recorded by Chicago Access Network Television (CAN TV).

The challenges, triumphs and defeats Obama experienced while in the White House, such as successfully introducing the Affordable Care Act, and struggling with issues of police brutality, gun control and more.

The challenges, triumphs and defeats Obama experienced while in the White House, such as successfully introducing the Affordable Care Act, and struggling with issues of police brutality, gun control and more.

Perma.cc archive of https://perma.cc/PN74-TSRM created on 2022-04-06 22:52:25.896589+00:00.

We are in an era in which old solutions grounded in the confidence of overwhelming military superiority must be rethought. We no longer have the luxury of relying on raw strength to the neglect of the brain. The military professional needs rejuvenation! We are not the only group so affected, though I do not claim to be expert in other fields. Clearly, the economic would is facing many challenges as well, and some very basic research and evaluation are called for there. In the diplomatic world, each day is less and less amenable to easy cataloging, demanding greater insight and professionalism on the part of the diplomatic corps. In short, my perception is that across the board there are urgent demands for professionals of every calling to return home, to dabble less, to give the most thoughtful and considered attention to their own responsibilities.

We are in an era in which old solutions grounded in the confidence of overwhelming military superiority must be rethought. We no longer have the luxury of relying on raw strength to the neglect of the brain. The military professional needs rejuvenation! We are not the only group so affected, though I do not claim to be expert in other fields. Clearly, the economic would is facing many challenges as well, and some very basic research and evaluation are called for there. In the diplomatic world, each day is less and less amenable to easy cataloging, demanding greater insight and professionalism on the part of the diplomatic corps. In short, my perception is that across the board there are urgent demands for professionals of every calling to return home, to dabble less, to give the most thoughtful and considered attention to their own responsibilities.

We are in an era in which old solutions grounded in the confidence of overwhelming military superiority must be rethought. We no longer have the luxury of relying on raw strength to the neglect of the brain. The military professional needs rejuvenation! We are not the only group so affected, though I do not claim to be expert in other fields. Clearly, the economic would is facing many challenges as well, and some very basic research and evaluation are called for there. In the diplomatic world, each day is less and less amenable to easy cataloging, demanding greater insight and professionalism on the part of the diplomatic corps. In short, my perception is that across the board there are urgent demands for professionals of every calling to return home, to dabble less, to give the most thoughtful and considered attention to their own responsibilities.

Downloaded from US National Archives Youtube channel on 2025-02-07 07:38:37 https://youtube.com/watch?v=JRhQZCFMMIc -------- International House at the University of Chicago February 5th, 2020 Join us for a special event, in conversation with U.S. Court of Appeals Judge Douglas H. Ginsburg—a national authority on the Constitution, and host of A More or Less Perfect Union (2020), the groundbreaking new three-part public television (PBS) series "that tells the story of how the framers put freedom in writing; how amendment after amendment finally spread freedom to all of “we the people,” and how we still struggle today to preserve the freedoms guaranteed in the Constitution. Throughout the series, experts of all stripes—conservative, progressive, and libertarian—debate key issues of liberty: freedom of religion and press, slavery, civil rights, the Second Amendment, separation of powers, and more." View a short preview here: https://bit.ly/2T3Cgyc Judge Ginsburg will discuss the series in depth with William Baude, Professor of Law and Aaron Director Research Scholar at The University of Chicago Law School. The discussion will include clips from the PBS series, and a brief audience Q and A session. The event will be live streamed via the US National Archives (NARA): https://bit.ly/39NEfg9 There will be book sales and a signing of the companion book, Voices of Our Republic, to follow. This program is co-sponsored by the Barack Obama Presidential Library (NARA), PBS, International House Global Voices Performing Arts and Lecture Series, The University of Chicago Law School, and other University of Chicago campus partners.

Downloaded from US National Archives Youtube channel on 2025-02-07 07:38:37 https://youtube.com/watch?v=JRhQZCFMMIc -------- International House at the University of Chicago February 5th, 2020 Join us for a special event, in conversation with U.S. Court of Appeals Judge Douglas H. Ginsburg—a national authority on the Constitution, and host of A More or Less Perfect Union (2020), the groundbreaking new three-part public television (PBS) series "that tells the story of how the framers put freedom in writing; how amendment after amendment finally spread freedom to all of “we the people,” and how we still struggle today to preserve the freedoms guaranteed in the Constitution. Throughout the series, experts of all stripes—conservative, progressive, and libertarian—debate key issues of liberty: freedom of religion and press, slavery, civil rights, the Second Amendment, separation of powers, and more." View a short preview here: https://bit.ly/2T3Cgyc Judge Ginsburg will discuss the series in depth with William Baude, Professor of Law and Aaron Director Research Scholar at The University of Chicago Law School. The discussion will include clips from the PBS series, and a brief audience Q and A session. The event will be live streamed via the US National Archives (NARA): https://bit.ly/39NEfg9 There will be book sales and a signing of the companion book, Voices of Our Republic, to follow. This program is co-sponsored by the Barack Obama Presidential Library (NARA), PBS, International House Global Voices Performing Arts and Lecture Series, The University of Chicago Law School, and other University of Chicago campus partners.

"The conspiracy to thwart the will of the people is not over. There are those in this country who thirst for power but have no...respect for what makes America great: devotion to The Constitution, allegiance to the rule of law, our shared journey to build a more perfect Union." https://t.co/FSEv9cXzrq Source: https://twitter.com/January6thCmte/status/1536026019223805954 Uploader: January 6th Committee

"The conspiracy to thwart the will of the people is not over. There are those in this country who thirst for power but have no...respect for what makes America great: devotion to The Constitution, allegiance to the rule of law, our shared journey to build a more perfect Union." https://t.co/FSEv9cXzrq Source: https://twitter.com/January6thCmte/status/1536026019223805954 Uploader: January 6th Committee

"The conspiracy to thwart the will of the people is not over. There are those in this country who thirst for power but have no...respect for what makes America great: devotion to The Constitution, allegiance to the rule of law, our shared journey to build a more perfect Union." https://t.co/FSEv9cXzrq Source: https://twitter.com/January6thCmte/status/1536026019223805954 Uploader: January 6th Committee

The "A More Perfect Union" series spotlights people whose contributions to society match the aspiration in the US Constitution. This is Episode 2. Dr. Shirley Jackson Whitaker took it upon herself to mourn all the African Americans who were lynched in the United States with a homegoing that she has presented twice so far, most recently at St. John’s Congregational Chycrh in Springfield. "Ashes to Ashes" are the final words in typical African American funeral services. Many of those who were murdered by the Klan to maintain the reign of white supremacy never received their “Ashes to Ashes.” The goal of this project is to acknowledge and mourn the African Americans who were racially terrorized during the Jim Crow era after the Civil War and until this very day. Some endured lynching and other forms of brutalization and, therefore, they never received a proper burial. More about Dr. Whitaker’s work here: ShirleyWhitaker.com