奧巴馬于2008年6月30日在密蘇里州獨立城的演講

背景介紹

在美國參加總統(tǒng)競選，不是占美國人口多數(shù)的盎格魯撒克遜人后代的競選者都很容易遭到美國人民的懷疑。人們會懷疑他們是否能維護美國的利益，是否愛美國。1988年，民主黨提名的候選人希臘裔美國人杜卡基斯，由于在任馬薩諸塞州州長時，曾根據(jù)美國最高法院的判決免除了該州學校學生必須舉行“向國旗宣誓效忠”的儀式，共和黨就利用美國人的“國旗情結”來質疑他的價值觀是否跟美國的價值觀相一致，質疑他是否是一個“異己分子”。本來在大選投票之前兩三個月的民意調查顯示，他擊敗老布什的可能性很大，但沒想到最后還是敗在共和黨的抹黑手段之下。奧巴馬在發(fā)現(xiàn)民意調查有四分之一的美國選民認為他缺乏愛國情操之后，認為不能等閑視之，必須趕快加以對付處理。于是，他選擇在美國國慶節(jié)之前的幾天，向人們表明他的愛國之心，同時向人們闡明何謂愛國，何謂不愛國。6月30日，他在杜魯門總統(tǒng)的故鄉(xiāng)密蘇里州獨立城作了題為《我們所熱愛的美國》的演講。

奧巴馬于2008年6月30日在密蘇里州獨立城的演講

On a spring morning in April of 1775, a simple band of colonists—farmers and merchants, blacksmiths and printers, men and boys—left their homes and families in Lexington and Concord to take up arms against the tyranny of an Empire. The odds against them were long and the risks enormous—for even if they survived the battle, any ultimate failure would bring charges of treason, and death by hanging.

And yet they took that chance. They did so not on behalf of a particular tribe or lineage, but on behalf of a larger idea. The idea of liberty. The idea of God-given, inalienable rights. And with the first shot of that fateful day—a shot heard round the world—the American Revolution, and America’s experiment with democracy, began.

Those men of Lexington and Concord were among our first patriots. And at the beginning of a week when we celebrate the birth of our nation, I think it is fitting to pause for a moment and reflect on the meaning of patriotism—theirs, and ours. We do so in part because we are in the midst of war—more than one and a half million of our finest young men and women have now fought in Iraq and Afghanistan; over 60,000 have been wounded, and over 4,600 have been laid to rest. The costs of war have been great, and the debate surrounding our mission in Iraq has been fierce. It is natural, in light of such sacrifice by so many, to think more deeply about the commitments that bind us to our nation, and to each other.

We reflect on these questions as well because we are in the midst of a presidential election, perhaps the most consequential in generations; a contest that will determine the course of this nation for years, perhaps decades, to come. Not only is it a debate about big issues—health care, jobs, energy, education, and retirement security—but it is also a debate about values. How do we keep ourselves safe and secure while preserving our liberties? How do we restore trust in a government that seems increasingly removed from its people and dominated by special interests? How do we ensure that in an increasingly global economy, the winners maintain allegiance to the less fortunate? And how do we resolve our differences at a time of increasing diversity?

Finally, it is worth considering the meaning of patriotism because the question of who is—or is not—a patriot all too often poisons our political debates, in ways that divide us rather than bringing us together. I have come to know this from my own experience on the campaign trail. Throughout my life, I have always taken my deep and abiding love for this country as a given. It was how I was raised; it is what propelled me into public service; it is why I am running for President. And yet, at certain times over the last sixteen months, I have found, for the first time, my patriotism challenged—at times as a result of my own carelessness, more often as a result of the desire by some to score political points and raise fears about who I am and what I stand for. So let me say at this at outset of my remarks. I will never question the patriotism of others in this campaign. And I will not stand idly by when I hear others question mine.

My concerns here aren’t simply personal, however. After all, throughout our history, men and women of far greater stature and significance than me have had their patriotism questioned in the midst of momentous debates. Thomas Jefferson was accused by the Federalists of selling out to the French. The anti-Federalists were just as convinced that John Adams was in cahoots with the British and intent on restoring monarchal rule. Likewise, even our wisest Presidents have sought to justify questionable policies on the basis of patriotism. Adams’ Alien and Sedition Act, Lincoln’s suspension of habeas corpus, Roosevelt’s internment of Japanese Americans—all were defended as expressions of patriotism, and those who disagreed with their policies were sometimes labeled as unpatriotic.

In other words, the use of patriotism as a political sword or a political shield is as old as the Republic. Still, what is striking about today’s patriotism debate is the degree to which it remains rooted in the culture wars of the 1960s—in arguments that go back forty years or more. In the early years of the civil rights movement and opposition to the Vietnam War, defenders of the status quo often accused anybody who questioned the wisdom of government policies of being unpatriotic. Meanwhile, some of those in the so-called counter-culture of the Sixties reacted not merely by criticizing particular government policies, but by attacking the symbols, and in extreme cases, the very idea, of America itself—by burning flags; by blaming America for all that was wrong with the world; and perhaps most tragically, by failing to honor those veterans coming home from Vietnam, something that remains a national shame to this day.

Most Americans never bought into these simplistic world-views—these caricatures of left and right. Most Americans understood that dissent does not make one unpatriotic, and that there is nothing smart or sophisticated about a cynical disregard for America’s traditions and institutions. And yet the anger and turmoil of that period never entirely drained away. All too often our politics still seems trapped in these old, threadbare arguments—a fact most evident during our recent debates about the war in Iraq, when those who opposed administration policy were tagged by some as unpatriotic, and a general providing his best counsel on how to move forward in Iraq was accused of betrayal.

Given the enormous challenges that lie before us, we can no longer afford these sorts of divisions. None of us expect that arguments about patriotism will, or should, vanish entirely; after all, when we argue about patriotism, we are arguing about who we are as a country, and more importantly, who we should be. But surely we can agree that no party or political philosophy has a monopoly on patriotism. And surely we can arrive at a definition of patriotism that, however rough and imperfect, captures the best of America’s common spirit.

What would such a definition look like? For me, as for most Americans, patriotism starts as a gut instinct, a loyalty and love for country rooted in my earliest memories. I’m not just talking about the recitations of the Pledge of Allegiance or the Thanksgiving pageants at school or the fireworks on the Fourth of July, as wonderful as those things may be. Rather, I’m referring to the way the American ideal wove its way throughout the lessons my family taught me as a child.

One of my earliest memories is of sitting on my grandfather’s shoulders and watching the astronauts come to shore in Hawaii. I remember the cheers and small flags that people waved, and my grandfather explaining how we Americans could do anything we set our minds to do. That’s my idea of America.

I remember listening to my grandmother telling stories about her work on a bomber assembly-line during World War II. I remember my grandfather handing me his dog-tags from his time in Patton’s Army, and understanding that his defense of this country marked one of his greatest sources of pride. That’s my idea of America.

I remember, when living for four years in Indonesia as a child, listening to my mother reading me the first lines of the Declaration of Independence—“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal. That they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”I remember her explaining how this declaration applied to every American, black and white and brown alike; how those words, and words of the United States Constitution, protected us from the injustices that we witnessed other people suffering during those years abroad. That’s my idea of America.

As I got older, that gut instinct—that America is the greatest country on earth—would survive my growing awareness of our nation’s imperfections: its ongoing racial strife; the perversion of our political system laid bare during the Watergate hearings; the wrenching poverty of the Mississippi Delta and the hills of Appalachia. Not only because, in my mind, the joys of American life and culture, its vitality, its variety and its freedom, always outweighed its imperfections, but because I learned that what makes America great has never been its perfection but the belief that it can be made better. I came to understand that our revolution was waged for the sake of that belief—that we could be governed by laws, not men; that we could be equal in the eyes of those laws; that we could be free to say what we want and assemble with whomever we want and worship as we please; that we could have the right to pursue our individual dreams but the obligation to help our fellow citizens pursue theirs.

For a young man of mixed race, without firm anchor in any particular community, without even a father’s steadying hand, it is this essential American idea—that we are not constrained by the accident of birth but can make of our lives what we will—that has defined my life, just as it has defined the life of so many other Americans.

That is why, for me, patriotism is always more than just loyalty to a place on a map or a certain kind of people. Instead, it is also loyalty to America’s ideals—ideals for which anyone can sacrifice, or defend, or give their last full measure of devotion. I believe it is this loyalty that allows a country teeming with different races and ethnicities, religions and customs, to come together as one. It is the application of these ideals that separate us from Zimbabwe, where the opposition party and their supporters have been silently hunted, tortured or killed; or Burma, where tens of thousands continue to struggle for basic food and shelter in the wake of a monstrous storm because a military junta fears opening up the country to outsiders; or Iraq, where despite the heroic efforts of our military, and the courage of many ordinary Iraqis, even limited cooperation between various factions remains far too elusive.

I believe those who attack America’s flaws without acknowledging the singular greatness of our ideals, and their proven capacity to inspire a better world, do not truly understand America.

Of course, precisely because America isn’t perfect, precisely because our ideals constantly demand more from us, patriotism can never be defined as loyalty to any particular leader or government or policy. As Mark Twain, that greatest of American satirists and proud son of Missouri, once wrote, "Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it." We may hope that our leaders and our government stand up for our ideals, and there are many times in our history when that’s occurred. But when our laws, our leaders or our government are out of alignment with our ideals, then the dissent of ordinary Americans may prove to be one of the truest expression of patriotism.

The young preacher from Georgia, Martin Luther King, Jr., who led a movement to help America confront our tragic history of racial injustice and live up to the meaning of our creed—he was a patriot. The young soldier who first spoke about the prisoner abuse at Abu Ghraib—he is a patriot. Recognizing a wrong being committed in this country’s name; insisting that we deliver on the promise of our Constitution—these are the acts of patriots, men and women who are defending that which is best in America. And we should never forget that—especially when we disagree with them; especially when they make us uncomfortable with their words.

Beyond a loyalty to America’s ideals, beyond a willingness to dissent on behalf of those ideals, I also believe that patriotism must, if it is to mean anything, involve the willingness to sacrifice—to give up something we value on behalf of a larger cause. For those who have fought under the flag of this nation—for the young veterans I meet when I visit Walter Reed; for those like John McCain who have endured physical torment in service to our country—no further proof of such sacrifice is necessary. And let me also add that no one should ever devalue that service, especially for the sake of a political campaign, and that goes for supporters on both sides.

We must always express our profound gratitude for the service of our men and women in uniform. Indeed, one of the good things to emerge from the current conflict in Iraq has been the widespread recognition that whether you support this war or oppose it, the sacrifice of our troops is always worthy of honor.

For the rest of us—for those of us not in uniform or without loved ones in the military—the call to sacrifice for the country’s greater good remains an imperative of citizenship. Sadly, in recent years, in the midst of war on two fronts, this call to service never came. After 9/11, we were asked to shop. The wealthiest among us saw their tax obligations decline, even as the costs of war continued to mount. Rather than work together to reduce our dependence on foreign oil, and thereby lessen our vulnerability to a volatile region, our energy policy remained unchanged, and our oil dependence only grew.

In spite of this absence of leadership from Washington, I have seen a new generation of Americans begin to take up the call. I meet them everywhere I go, young people involved in the project of American renewal; not only those who have signed up to fight for our country in distant lands, but those who are fighting for a better America here at home, by teaching in underserved schools, or caring for the sick in understaffed hospitals, or promoting more sustainable energy policies in their local communities.

I believe one of the tasks of the next Administration is to ensure that this movement towards service grows and sustains itself in the years to come. We should expand AmeriCorps and grow the Peace Corps. We should encourage national service by making it part of the requirement for a new college assistance program, even as we strengthen the benefits for those whose sense of duty has already led them to serve in our military.

We must remember, though, that true patriotism cannot be forced or legislated with a mere set of government programs. Instead, it must reside in the hearts of our people, and cultivated in the heart of our culture, and nurtured in the hearts of our children.

As we begin our fourth century as a nation, it is easy to take the extraordinary nature of America for granted. But it is our responsibility as Americans and as parents to instill that history in our children, both at home and at school. The loss of quality civic education from so many of our classrooms has left too many young Americans without the most basic knowledge of who our forefathers are, or what they did, or the significance of the founding documents that bear their names. Too many children are ignorant of the sheer effort, the risks and sacrifices made by previous generations, to ensure that this country survived war and depression; through the great struggles for civil, and social, and worker’s rights.

It is up to us, then, to teach them. It is up to us to teach them that even though we have faced great challenges and made our share of mistakes, we have always been able to come together and make this nation stronger, and more prosperous, and more united, and more just. It is up to us to teach them that America has been a force for good in the world, and that other nations and other people have looked to us as the last, best hope of Earth. It is up to us to teach them that it is good to give back to one’s community; that it is honorable to serve in the military; that it is vital to participate in our democracy and make our voices heard.

And it is up to us to teach our children a lesson that those of us in politics too often forget: that patriotism involves not only defending this country against external threat, but also working constantly to make America a better place for future generations. When we pile up mountains of debt for the next generation to absorb, or put off changes to our energy policies, knowing full well the potential consequences of inaction, we are placing our short-term interests ahead of the nation’s long-term well-being. When we fail to educate effectively millions of our children so that they might compete in a global economy, or we fail to invest in the basic scientific research that has driven innovation in this country, we risk leaving behind an America that has fallen in the ranks of the world. Just as patriotism involves each of us making a commitment to this nation that extends beyond our own immediate self-interest, so must that commitment extends beyond our own time here on earth.

Our greatest leaders have always understood this. They’ve defined patriotism with an eye toward posterity. George Washington is rightly revered for his leadership of the Continental Army, but one of his greatest acts of patriotism was his insistence on stepping down after two terms, thereby setting a pattern for those that would follow, reminding future presidents that this is a government of and by and for the people.

Abraham Lincoln did not simply win a war or hold the Union together. In his unwillingness to demonize those against whom he fought; in his refusal to succumb to either the hatred or self-righteousness that war can unleash; in his ultimate insistence that in the aftermath of war the nation would no longer remain half slave and half free; and his trust in the better angels of our nature—he displayed the wisdom and courage that sets a standard for patriotism.

And it was the most famous son of Independence, Harry S Truman, who sat in the White House during his final days in office and said in his Farewell Address: "When Franklin Roosevelt died, I felt there must be a million men better qualified than I, to take up the Presidential task…But through all of it, through all the years I have worked here in this room, I have been well aware than I did not really work alone—that you were working with me. No President could ever hope to lead our country, or to sustain the burdens of this office, save the people helped with their support."

In the end, it may be this quality that best describes patriotism in my mind—not just a love of America in the abstract, but a very particular love for, and faith in, the American people. That is why our heart swells with pride at the sight of our flag; why we shed a tear as the lonely notes of Taps sound. For we know that the greatness of this country—its victories in war, its enormous wealth, its scientific and cultural achievements—all result from the energy and imagination of the American people; their toil, drive, struggle, restlessness, humor and quiet heroism.

That is the liberty we defend—the liberty of each of us to pursue our own dreams. That is the equality we seek—not an equality of results, but the chance of every single one of us to make it if we try. That is the community we strive to build—one in which we trust in this sometimes messy democracy of ours, one in which we continue to insist that there is nothing we cannot do when we put our mind to it, one in which we see ourselves as part of a larger story, our own fates wrapped up in the fates of those who share allegiance to America’s happy and singular creed.

Thank you, God Bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America.

在1775年4月的一個春晨，一小群殖民地的居民——農民和商人、鐵匠和印刷工人、成年和未成年的男人，告別了他們在列克星敦和康克爾德的家，他們拿起武器開始反對英帝國的專制統(tǒng)治。他們獲勝的機會極小，但風險極大——即使他們在戰(zhàn)斗中能夠幸存下來，如果最終結局是失敗的話，他們都將面臨叛國的指控而獲絞刑。

雖然如此，他們還是決定試試。他們如此做不是為了一個部族或家族，而是為了一個更大的理想。即自由的理想，上天賦予的、不可剝奪的人權的理想。在那個意義重大的日子，隨著這一聲響徹世界的槍響，美國大革命，即美國實行民主的試驗開始了。

列克星敦和康克爾德的那些人屬于我們最早的愛國者。在慶祝我們國家誕辰的這一周開始之際，我認為不妨稍息片刻來思考愛國主義的意義——先人的和今人的愛國主義。我們有這樣做部分是因為我們正處于戰(zhàn)爭之中，我們一百五十多萬優(yōu)秀的男女青年已在伊拉克和阿富汗服過兵役，六萬人受傷，四千六百多人入土長眠。戰(zhàn)爭的費用非常高昂，圍繞我們在伊拉克的使命的爭論也非常激烈。有這么多人付出了犧牲，我們很自然地要更深刻地思考那些我們對國家和我們相互之間應盡的義務。

我們對這些問題進行思考的另一個原因是因為我們正處于一場大選的競選之中，這可以說是一場近幾代人以來最具決定性意義的競選，一場關系到我們國家今后幾年或許幾十年發(fā)展方向的競選。我們所進行的不僅是關于許多重大問題——健康保險、就業(yè)、能源、教育和退休保障的論爭，也是關于價值觀的論爭。我們如何在保障我們人身和國家安全的同時，保有我們的自由?我們如何恢復一個越來越遠離其人民，并越來越被特殊利益集團主宰的政府的公信力?我們如何保證在一個越來越全球化的經(jīng)濟情勢下，獲勝者對那些不那么幸運的人能盡其義務?我們如何在一個日趨多樣化的時代解決我們的分歧?

最后，值得我們思考的是，愛國的意義是什么，因為誰是愛國者，或者誰不是愛國者這個問題，經(jīng)常毒化了我們的政治論爭，其結果是分化了我們而不是團結了我們。我在這次競選的行程中對此已深有體會。在我一生中，我一直認為我對這個國家深切和堅定不移的愛是理所當然的。它事關我如何被撫養(yǎng)長大，它推動我投身于為公眾服務，它讓我參與了總統(tǒng)競選。然而，在過去十六個月的某些時間里，我第一次發(fā)現(xiàn)人們懷疑我的愛國心——有些時候這是因為我疏忽而造成的，更多的時候這是某些人為了在政治上多撈好處而造成的，他們想讓人對我是什么樣的一個人以及我所主張的是什么感到害怕。所以，我現(xiàn)在明確宣布，在這次競選中，我決不會懷疑別人的愛國主義;但當其他人置疑我的愛國主義時，我也決不會置若罔聞。

我關心此事不是純粹基于我個人的考慮。畢竟在我們歷史上，有許多比我聲望和地位都高得多的男士女士，他們的愛國心在至關重大的爭論中也都被懷疑過。托馬斯·杰斐遜被聯(lián)邦黨人指責過私通法國。反聯(lián)邦黨人同樣相信約翰·亞當斯串通英國企圖復辟帝制。如出一轍的是，即便我們最具智慧的總統(tǒng)也曾經(jīng)借愛國的名義來為他們有問題的政策辯護。亞當斯頒布的客籍法與懲治煽動法、林肯中止的人身保護令、羅斯福對日裔美國人的監(jiān)禁——這些都被辯解為愛國的表現(xiàn)，凡不同意他們政策的人有些時候被扣上了不愛國的帽子。

換句話說，利用愛國主義作為一把政治寶劍或一張政治盾牌的做法由來已久——與我們的共和國同樣長久。雖然如此，今天有關愛國主義的爭辯，很突出的一點是它仍起源于二十世紀六十年代的文化沖突，其所提出的論點可以追溯到四十年或更多年前。在早期民權運動與反越戰(zhàn)時期，不想改變國家現(xiàn)狀的人指責任何懷疑國家政策是否明智的人為不愛國。同時，那些二十世紀六十年代所謂“反主流文化”的人，對這個指責所作出的反應是不僅僅批評政府某些特定的政策，而且還攻擊美國的象征，極端的例子是攻擊美國觀念的象征，即焚燒國旗，還把世界所有的問題都歸咎于美國，也許最不幸的是，他們沒有給予那些從越南退役下來的軍人應有的榮譽，直到今天這仍是我們民族的一個恥辱。

大部分美國人從未附和過這種過分簡單化的世界觀，這種對左派與右派漫畫式的界定。大部分美國人明白一個人表示出不同意見并不等于他不愛國，他們也明白一個人對美國傳統(tǒng)與固有象征的諷刺挖苦并不一定代表他有多聰慧和高明。但是，那個時期的憤怒與動蕩不安從沒完全消失。我們的政治仍舊經(jīng)常地陷于那些陳腐之見中，這在我們最近有關伊拉克戰(zhàn)爭的爭論中特別突顯出來。譬如那些反對政府政策的人被扣上了不愛國的帽子，一位將軍為了在伊拉克取得勝利提出他最善良的建議卻被指責為背叛之舉。

考慮到我們所面臨的巨大挑戰(zhàn)，我們再也不能容忍這種分裂了。沒有人會期望有關愛國主義的爭吵會消失。畢竟在我們爭吵有關愛國主義的時候，我們爭吵的是作為一個國家我們是什么樣的人，而更重要的，是我們應該是什么樣的人。我們大家可以同意的是，沒有任何一種黨或者任何一個政治哲學可以對愛國主義思想進行壟斷。我們最終也能夠對愛國主義下一個體現(xiàn)美國共有精神中最可貴成分的定義，不管其是多么粗糙和不完美。

這個定義會是一個什么樣的定義?對我和大部分美國人來說，愛國最初是一種本能感覺，這種我對國家的忠誠和熱愛起源于我最早的記憶。我指的不僅僅是對‘效忠國旗宣言’的朗誦、對學校感恩節(jié)的慶典或對7月4日(美國國慶節(jié))放煙火的記憶——盡管它們是那么美妙。我更想指出的是，我在孩提時期所受的家庭教育如何使我接納了美國的理想。

我最早的記憶之一是坐在外公肩上觀看我們的宇航員登上夏威夷海灘。我記得人們的歡呼聲以及他們揮動的小旗子。我外公向我解釋說我們美國人只要想做什么事就必定能做到。那就是我腦中的美國。

我記得聽我外婆講她在二戰(zhàn)時在一個轟炸機組裝線上的工作經(jīng)歷。我記得我外公給我看他在巴頓將軍部隊服役時的士兵證。他讓我知道他的衛(wèi)國之舉是他最感光榮自豪的源泉之一。那就是我腦中的美國。

我記得我小時候在印尼住了四年。我聽媽媽給我讀《獨立宣言》開頭的幾個句子：“我們認為下列真理是不言而喻的：人人生而平等，造物主賦予他們若干不可剝奪的權利，其中包括生存、自由和追求幸福。”我記得她給我解釋這個宣言適用于每個美國人，黑皮膚的、白皮膚的、褐色皮膚的都適用，里頭的字句，還有美國憲法的字句如何保護我們不受不公正的對待，正如那些年我和她在海外時所見到的其他人所遭受的那樣。那就是我腦中的美國。

在我大了一些的時候，我這個本能感覺——美國是世界上最偉大的國家，沒有由于我察覺到我們國家的種種不完善之處而有所削減：譬如持續(xù)不斷的種族糾紛、在水門事件中暴露出來的我們政治制度的扭曲和密西西比河三角洲與阿巴拉契亞山脈地區(qū)令人痛心的貧困。這不僅是因為在我心里我覺得美國生活和文化中的樂趣、生命力、多樣性、自由蓋過其一切不完善之處，還因為我體悟到美國從來就不是由于它的完美，而是由于人們堅信它能被塑造成一個更美好的國家而變得偉大。我逐漸明白，我們先輩就是為了這個信念而發(fā)起了一場革命，為了我們受治于法而不是受治于人，為了我們可以在法律面前人人平等，為了我們可以自由言論，可以自由與他人集會，可以自由信仰我們之所愛，以及為了我們享有追求個人夢想的權利并能夠幫助別人追求他們夢想。

我是一個不同種族的混血青年，在任何種族社團都沒有堅實的依靠，甚至沒有一只父親的有力之手的扶助。但對我來說，就是這樣一個基本的美國觀念，即我們并不受我們出生的偶然性主宰，而可以憑我們的意志來塑造我們的人生，這樣一個基本的美國觀念決定了我的一生，就像它決定了許許多多其他美國人的一生一樣。

這就是為什么對我來說，愛國的含義不僅僅是對地圖上的一處地方或對某一類人們表示忠誠，實際上，愛國是對美國的理想表示忠誠——那些任何人都可以為之犧牲、獻出一切的理想。我認為這樣的忠誠最適合使我們這樣一個多種族、多宗教、多習俗的國家合為一體。正是把這些理想付諸于實踐，我們才有別于津巴布韋，在那個國家，反對黨及其支持者被秘密地搜捕、折磨或殺害;才有別于緬甸，在那個國家，幾十萬人在一場巨大災害面前為基本生計掙扎著，就因為一個軍人政權害怕把國家對外開放;也有別于伊拉克，在那個國家，盡管我們軍人已付出了巨大努力，許許多多伊拉克老百姓也表現(xiàn)出了勇氣，不同派系之間的合作，哪怕是有限的，還是難以看到。

我認為那些攻擊美國缺點的人并沒有真正了解美國，他們沒有認識到我們獨一無二的偉大的理想以及已獲得證實的能激勵人們創(chuàng)造一個更美好世界的能力。

當然，恰恰是因為美國并不是一個完美的國家，也恰恰是因為我們的理想不斷要求我們做出更多的付出，我們不能把“愛國”定義為對某一位領導人、對某一個政府或對某一種政策的忠誠。馬克·吐溫，這位美國最偉大的諷刺作家、讓密蘇里州感到自豪的兒子曾寫道：“愛國就是任何時候都支持你的國家，也支持你的政府——但只在這個政府值得你支持的時候。”我們可以期望我們的領導人和我們的政府能捍衛(wèi)我們的理想，這在我們國家的歷史上確實發(fā)生過很多次。但是，當我們的法律、我們的領導人或者我們的政府背離了我們的理想的時候，那么普通美國老百姓發(fā)出的反對聲將成為各種最真實的愛國表現(xiàn)之一。

馬丁·路德·金，這位喬治亞州的年輕牧師曾領導過一場運動來促使美國直面其種族不公的悲劇歷史中，他也立身行道，始終如一地堅守我們國家的信條——他是一位愛國者。那位首先說出阿布格萊布監(jiān)獄(美軍在伊拉克管治的監(jiān)獄)對犯人施加虐待的年輕美國兵——他是一位愛國者。認識到以我們國家名義犯下的錯誤，堅持兌現(xiàn)我們憲法的承諾——這都是愛國者的行為，都是愛國的男男女女為了捍衛(wèi)美國最可貴之處的行為。這是我們絕不能夠忘卻的——即使我們與他們有意見分歧，即使他們的話讓我們難堪。

對美國理想的忠誠，為了這些理想而愿意發(fā)出反對聲，除了這些愛國行為之外，我認為愛國若有任何意義的話，必須包含準備犧牲的意愿——準備為一個更崇高的目標而舍棄我們所珍惜的東西。對那些在我們國旗下進行過戰(zhàn)斗的人，如我在瓦爾特·里德軍醫(yī)中心碰到的年輕戰(zhàn)士以及如約翰·麥凱恩(奧巴馬的競選對手)那樣的為了報效國家而甘受肉體折磨的人，我們無需他們拿出更多的證據(jù)來證明他們所作出的犧牲。讓我再補充一點，不管任何人都不應該貶低他們所作出的貢獻，尤其不應該是為了政治競選而干這種事，雙方陣營的支持者都應注意這一點。

對我們穿上軍服的男男女女所作出的服務貢獻，我們應該深深地感激。實際上，目前有關伊拉克戰(zhàn)爭的爭論所顯現(xiàn)出來的好事中有一個就是，不管你支持或反對這場戰(zhàn)爭，我們軍隊所作出的犧牲是永遠值得尊敬的。

對我們其他人——對我們這些不穿軍服或在軍隊里沒有至親至愛的人，為國家更大的利益做出犧牲仍然是公民的一種義不容辭的責任?？杀氖?，近些年，盡管我們處在兩場戰(zhàn)爭之中，這種呼喚大家作出貢獻的聲音已聽不到。“9·11”事件之后，叫我們做的事都是去揀便宜。雖然戰(zhàn)爭的經(jīng)費不斷攀升，我們之中最富有的人卻享有賦稅義務的減免。本來我們應該通過協(xié)調合作來減少對進口石油的依賴，從而使我們在那些風云莫測的產(chǎn)油區(qū)面前不顯得那么脆弱，但我們的能源政策卻一成不變，造成我們對石油依賴性的增加。

盡管華盛頓方面的領導缺位，但我觀察到新一代的美國人正響應這種呼喚，我在走到的每個地方都碰到過他們。年輕人投身于美國復興的項目，這不僅僅有那些為了我們國家的利益而報名到遙遠國家作戰(zhàn)的人，還有那些在家鄉(xiāng)本土為一個更美好的美國而斗爭的人。他們或者到師資匱乏的學校執(zhí)教，或者到醫(yī)務人員短缺的醫(yī)院照顧病人，或者在他們地方社區(qū)為更具可持續(xù)性能源政策做宣傳。

我認為下一屆政府的一個任務就是保證這么一個讓人投身于服務的運動能夠在未來持續(xù)發(fā)展。我們應擴大“美國隊”和發(fā)展“和平隊”。我們應該鼓勵人們?yōu)閲曳?，將它作為新的大學援助計劃要求的一部分，即使我們對那些服務于軍隊的人已增加補助。

然而，我們必須記住的是，真正的愛國不能通過一系列政府計劃強制性地或以立法方式來推行。相反，愛國思想必須常駐于我們心中，栽培于我們的文化中，培育于我們孩子的心中。

在我們作為一個國家進入第四個世紀之際，我們很容易把美國的卓越性視為理所當然。但我們的家長有責任通過家庭和學校，把美國的歷史逐漸灌輸?shù)胶⒆拥念^腦中。我們很多學校缺乏良好的公民知識教育，許多美國青年不知道我們先輩的事跡，也不知道他們制定的奠定我國基礎的文獻的意義。先輩們全力以赴冒著風險做出犧牲，使我國打贏了戰(zhàn)爭，度過了經(jīng)濟蕭條，獲得了爭取民權、社會權利和工人權利的偉大斗爭的勝利，而許多兒童卻對這一切一無所知。

我們需要教育孩子，讓他們知道盡管我們面臨嚴重的挑戰(zhàn)，盡管我們犯過錯誤，我們一定能團結起來，使我國變得更加強大，更加興旺，更加團結，更加公平。我們需要教育他們，美國已成為世界上一支追求美好的力量，被其他國家和民族視為地球上最終的希望。我們需要教育他們，返回自己社區(qū)服務是好事，在軍隊服役很光榮，參與民主政治活動發(fā)出自己的聲音至關緊要。

我們需要教育孩子，使他們明白一個從政者經(jīng)常忘記的道理：愛國主義不僅包括保衛(wèi)我國不受外來威脅，還包括堅持工作，使子孫后代有一個更美好的美國。我們把債務積累如山，等待下一代去償還，或者明知后果而拒不改變能源政策，這都是把短期利益置于國家長遠福利之上。如果我們不能通過教育使上百萬美國兒童在全球化經(jīng)濟中具有競爭力，或者不能投資基礎科學研究以推動我國的科技創(chuàng)新，我們就可能使美國在世界排名中后退。正如愛國主義要求我們所有人把國家利益置于個人的眼前利益之上，它還要求我們把子孫后代的利益置于我們自己的利益之上。

我們的最偉大的領袖們明白這個道理。他們對愛國主義的定義著眼于未來。喬治.華盛頓因為領導大陸軍而得到尊敬，但他的一項最偉大的愛國行動就是在擔任兩屆總統(tǒng)之后堅決離職，為后來的總統(tǒng)樹立一個模式，并提醒后來的總統(tǒng)，這是一個為人民所有、受人民統(tǒng)治和為人民謀利益的政府。(注：舊譯為民有、民治、民享)

亞伯拉罕·林肯不僅打贏了一場戰(zhàn)爭，捍衛(wèi)了美國的統(tǒng)一，而且不愿妖魔化他的戰(zhàn)場對手，拒絕屈從于戰(zhàn)爭帶來的仇恨或自以為是，堅持戰(zhàn)后的美國不能繼續(xù)保持那種一半奴隸一半自由人的制度。他相信我們天性中較好的一面，他的智慧與勇氣為我們樹立了一個愛國主義的典范。

哈里·杜魯門離職前在白宮的告別演說中說：“富蘭克林·羅斯福逝世時，我感覺應該有一百萬人比我更有資格擔任總統(tǒng)。但經(jīng)過了所有這一切，經(jīng)過我在這間辦公室工作的所有歲月，我清楚地認識到我確實不是一個人在工作，你們在與我一道工作。沒有人民的幫助和支持，任何總統(tǒng)都不能指望領導這個國家，或者承擔這個職務的重擔。”

最后，最能準確描述我心目中的愛國主義的可能是下列品質——不僅抽象地愛美國，而且對美國人民有一種特別的愛和信心。我一看見我們的國旗就豪情滿懷，一聽到悲哀孤寂的葬禮號聲就熱淚盈眶，原因就在于此。因為我們知道我們國家的偉大，它在戰(zhàn)爭中的凱旋，它巨大的財富，它在科技與文化上的成就，這一切都是美國人民的精力與想象力的結晶;是他們的辛勞，他們的勇往直前，他們的奮斗，他們的不懈努力，幽默感和默默無聞的英雄主義精神的結晶。

這就是我們要捍衛(wèi)的自由——我們每個人追求自己夢想的自由。這就是我們要追求的平等——不是結果的平等，而是讓每個人有平等的機會去嘗試獲得成功。這就是我們要努力建設的社會——一個讓我們抱有信心但有時候有點混亂的民主的社會，一個讓我們堅信有志者事竟成的社會，一個讓我們看到我們每個人都是一項偉大事業(yè)的組成部分，我們以及那些同樣宣誓效忠于美國幸福和其獨一無二信念的人們的命運休戚與共的社會。

謝謝大家。愿上帝保佑您，愿上帝保佑美利堅共和國。

精彩語錄

Finally, it is worth considering the meaning of patriotism because the question of who is—or is not—a patriot all too often poisons our political debates, in ways that divide us rather than bringing us together.

最后，值得我們思考的是，愛國的意義是什么，因為誰是愛國者，或者誰不是愛國者這個問題，經(jīng)常毒化了我們的政治論爭，其結果是分化了我們而不是團結了我們。

Patriotism is always more than just loyalty to a place on a map or a certain kind of people. Instead, it is also loyalty to America’s ideals——ideals for which anyone can sacrifice, or defend, or give their last full measure of devotion. I believe it is this loyalty that allows a country teeming with different races and ethnicities, religions and customs, to come together as one.

愛國的含義不僅僅是對地圖上的一處地方或對某一類人們表示忠誠，實際上，愛國是對美國的理想表示忠誠——那些任何人都可以為之犧牲、獻出一切的理想。我認為這樣的忠誠最適合使我們這樣一個多種族、多宗教、多習俗的國家合為一體。

For the rest of us——for those of us not in uniform or without loved ones in the military——the call to sacrifice for the country’s greater good remains an imperative of citizenship.

對我們其他人——對我們這些不穿軍服或在軍隊里沒有至親至愛的人，為國家更大的利益做出犧牲仍然是公民的一種義不容辭的責任。

And it is up to us to teach our children a lesson that those of us in politics too often forget: that patriotism involves not only defending this country against external threat, but also working constantly to make America a better place for future generations.

真正的愛國不能通過一系列政府計劃強制性地或以立法方式來推行。相反，愛國思想必須常駐于我們心中，栽培于我們的文化中，培育于我們孩子的心中。

That is the liberty we defend——the liberty of each of us to pursue our own dreams. That is the equality we seek——not an equality of results, but the chance of every single one of us to make it if we try. That is the community we strive to build——one in which we trust in this sometimes messy democracy of ours, one in which we continue to insist that there is nothing we cannot do when we put our mind to it, one in which we see ourselves as part of a larger story, our own fates wrapped up in the fates of those who share allegiance to America’s happy and singular creed.

這就是我們要捍衛(wèi)的自由——我們每個人追求自己夢想的自由。這就是我們要追求的平等——不是結果的平等，而是讓我們每個人有平等的機會去嘗試獲得成功。這就是我們要努力建設的社會——一個讓我們抱有信心但有時候有點混亂的民主的社會，一個讓我們堅信有志者事竟成的社會，一個讓我們看到我們每個人都是一項偉大事業(yè)的組成部分，我們以及那些同樣宣誓效忠于美國幸福和其獨一無二信念的人們的命運休戚與共的社會。