As in the aftermath of 9/11, you’ll excuse me if I depart from the
normal Bar Chat fare in light of the death of Ronald Reagan.
This was an extraordinary man and leader. May he rest in peace,
and may God bless Nancy who has borne the burden over the last
ten years with incredible courage.
—
President George W. Bush
Ronald Reagan won America’s respect with his greatness, and
won its love with his goodness. He had the confidence that
comes with conviction, the strength that comes with character,
the grace that comes with humility, and the humor that comes
with wisdom.
He leaves behind a nation he restored, and a world he helped
save.
During the years of President Reagan, America laid to rest an era
of division and self-doubt. And because of his leadership, the
world laid to rest an era of fear and tyranny.
Now, in laying our leader to rest, we say thank you.
He always told us that for America, the best was yet to come.
We comfort ourselves in the knowledge that this is true for him
too. His work is done. And now a shining city awaits him.
May God bless Ronald Reagan.
—
Ronald Reagan’s Farewell Address, January 11, 1989
My fellow Americans: this is the 34th time I\’\’ll speak to you from
the Oval Office and the last. We\’\’ve been together eight years
now, and soon it\’\’ll be time for me to go. But before I do, I
wanted to share some thoughts, some of which I\’\’ve been saving
for a long time. It\’\’s been the honor of my life to be your
president. So many of you have written the past few weeks to say
thanks, but I could say as much to you. Nancy and I are grateful
for the opportunity you gave us to serve.
One of the things about the presidency is that you\’\’re always
somewhat apart. You spend a lot of time going by too fast in a
car someone else is driving, and seeing the people through tinted
glass – the parents holding up a child, and the wave you saw too
late and couldn\’\’t return. And so many times I wanted to stop and
reach out from behind the glass, and connect. Well, maybe I can
do a little of that tonight.
People ask how I feel about leaving. And, the fact is, "parting is
such sweet sorrow." The sweet part is California, and the ranch
and freedom. The sorrow – the good-byes, of course, and leaving
this beautiful place. You know, down the hall and up the stairs
from this office is the part of the White House where the
president and his family live. There are a few favorite windows I
have up there that I like to stand and look out of early in the
morning. The view is over the grounds here to the Washington
Monument, and then the Mall and the Jefferson Memorial. But
on mornings when the humidity is low, you can see past the
Jefferson to the river, the Potomac, and the Virginia shore.
Someone said that\’\’s the view Lincoln had when he saw the
smoke rising from the Battle of Bull Run. Well, I see more
prosaic things: the grass on the banks, the morning traffic as
people make their way to work, now and then a sailboat on the
river.
I\’\’ve been thinking a bit at that window. I\’\’ve been reflecting on
what the past eight years have meant and mean. And the image
that comes to mind like a refrain is a nautical one – a small story
about a big ship, and a refugee and a sailor. It was back in the
early eighties, at the height of the boat people. And the sailor was
hard at work on the carrier Midway, which was patrolling the
South China Sea. The sailor, like most American servicemen,
was young, smart, and fiercely observant. The crew spied on the
horizon a leaky little boat. And crammed inside were refugees
from Indochina hoping to get to America. The Midway sent a
small launch to bring them to the ship and safety. As the refugees
made their way through the choppy seas, one spied the sailor on
deck, and stood up, and called out to him. He yelled, "Hello,
American sailor. Hello, freedom man." A small moment with a
big meaning, a moment the sailor, who wrote it in a letter,
couldn\’\’t get out of his mind. And when I saw it, neither could I.
Because that\’\’s what it has to – it was to be an American in the
1980s. We stood, again, for freedom. I know we always have,
but in the past few years the world again, and in a way, we
ourselves – rediscovered it.
It\’\’s been quite a journey this decade, and we held together
through some stormy seas. And at the end, together, we\’\’re
reaching our destination. The fact is, from Grenada to the
Washington and Moscow summits, from the recession of \’\’81 to
\’\’82, to the expansion that began in late \’\’82 and continues to this
day, we\’\’ve made a difference. The way I see it, there were two
great triumphs, two things that I\’\’m proudest of. One is the
economic recovery, in which the people of America created –
and filled – 19 million new jobs. The other is the recovery of our
morale. America is respected again in the world and looked to
for leadership.
Something that happened to me a few years ago reflects some of
this. It was back in 1981, and I was attending my first big
economic summit, which was held that year in Canada. The
meeting place rotates among the member countries. The opening
meeting was a formal dinner for the heads of government of the
seven industrialized nations. Well, I sat there like the new kid in
school and listened, and it was all Francois this and Helmut that.
They dropped titles and spoke to one another on a first-name
basis. Well, at one point I sort of leaned in and said, "My name\’\’s
Ron." Well, in that same year, we began the actions we felt
would ignite an economic comeback – cut taxes and regulation,
started to cut spending. And soon the recovery began. Two years
later another economic summit, with pretty much the same cast.
At the big opening meeting we all got together, and all of a
sudden, and just for a moment, I saw that everyone was just
sitting there looking at me. And then one of them broke the
silence. "Tell us about the American miracle," he said.
Well, back in 1980, when I was running for president, it was all
so different. Some pundits said our programs would result in a
catastrophe. Our views on foreign affairs would cause war. Our
plans for the economy would cause inflation to soar and bring
about economic collapse. I even remember one highly respected
economist saying, back in 1982, that "The engines of economic
growth have shut down here, and they\’\’re likely to stay that way
for years to come." Well, he and the other opinion leaders were
wrong. The fact is, what they called "radical" was really "right."
What they called "dangerous" was just "desperately needed."
And in all of that time I won a nickname, the "Great
Communicator." But I never thought it was my style or the words
I used that made a difference: it was the content. I wasn\’\’t a great
communicator, but I communicated great things, and they didn\’\’t
spring full bloom from my brow, they came from the heart of a
great nation – from our experience, our wisdom, and our belief in
the principles that have guided us for two centuries. They called
it the Reagan revolution. And I\’\’ll accept that, but for me it always
seemed more like the great rediscovery, a rediscovery of our
values and our common sense.
Common sense told us that when you put a big tax on something,
the people will produce less of it. So, we cut the people\’\’s tax
rates, and the people produced more than ever before. The
economy bloomed like a plant that had been cut back and could
now grow quicker and stronger. Our economic program brought
about the longest peacetime expansion in our history: real family
income up, the poverty rate down, entrepreneurship booming,
and an explosion in research and new technology. We\’\’re
exporting more than ever because American industry became
more competitive and at the same time, we summoned the
national will to knock down protectionist walls abroad instead of
erecting them at home.
Common sense also told us that to preserve the peace, we\’\’d have
to become strong again after years of weakness and confusion.
So, we rebuilt our defenses, and this New Year we toasted the
new peacefulness around the globe. Not only have the
superpowers actually begun to reduce their stockpiles of nuclear
weapons – and hope for even more progress is bright – but the
regional conflicts that rack the globe are also beginning to cease.
The Persian Gulf is no longer a war zone. The Soviets are
leaving Afghanistan. The Vietnamese are preparing to pull out of
Cambodia, and an American-mediated accord will soon send
50,000 Cuban troops home from Angola.
The lesson of all this was, of course, that because we\’\’re a great
nation, our challenges seem complex. It will always be this way.
But as long as we remember our first principles and believe in
ourselves, the future will always be ours. And something else we
learned: once you begin a great movement, there\’\’s no telling
where it will end. We meant to change a nation, and instead, we
changed a world. Countries across the globe are turning to free
markets and free speech, and turning away from ideologies of the
past. For them, the great rediscovery of the 1980s has been that,
lo and behold, the moral way of government is the practical way
of government: democracy, the profoundly good, is also the
profoundly productive.
When you\’\’ve got to the point when you can celebrate the
anniversaries of your thirty-ninth birthday, you can sit back
sometimes, review your life, and see it flowing before you. For
me there was a fork in the river, and it was right in the middle of
my life. I never meant to go into politics. [It] wasn\’\’t my intention
when I was young. But I was raised to believe you had to pay
your way for the blessings bestowed on you. I was happy with
my career in the entertainment world, but I ultimately went into
politics because I wanted to protect something precious.
Ours was the first revolution in the history of mankind that truly
reversed the course of government, and with three little words:
"We the People." "We the People" tell the government what to
do, it doesn\’\’t tell us. "We the People" are the driver, the
government is the car. And we decide where it should go, and by
what route, and how fast. Almost all the world\’\’s constitutions are
documents in which governments tell the people what their
privileges are. Our Constitution is a document in which "We the
People" tell the government what it is allowed to do. "We the
People" are free. This belief has been the underlying basis for
everything I\’\’ve tried to do these past eight years.
But back in the 1960s, when I began, it seemed to me that we\’\’d
begun reversing the order of things – that through more and more
rules and regulations and confiscatory taxes, the government was
taking more of our money, more of our options, and more of our
freedom. I went into politics in part to put up my hand and say,
"Stop." I was a citizen politician, and it seemed the right thing
for a citizen to do. I think we have stopped a lot of what needed
stopping. And I hope we have once again reminded people that
man is not free unless government is limited. There\’\’s a clear
cause and effect here that is as neat and predictable as a law of
physics: as government expands, liberty contracts.
Nothing is less free than pure communism, and yet we have, the
past few years, forged a satisfying new closeness with the Soviet
Union. I\’\’ve been asked if this isn\’\’t a gamble, and my answer is no
because we\’\’re basing our actions not on words but deeds. The
d’Etente of the 1970s was based not on actions but promises.
They\’\’d promised to treat their own people and the people of the
world better. But the gulag was still the gulag, and the state was
still expansionist, and they still waged proxy wars in Africa,
Asia, and Latin America. Well, this time, so far, it\’\’s different.
President Gorbachev has brought about some internal democratic
reforms and begun the withdrawal from Afghanistan. He has also
freed prisoners whose names I\’\’ve given him every time we\’\’ve
met.
But life has a way of reminding you of big things through small
incidents. Once, during the heady days of the Moscow summit,
Nancy and I decided to break off from the entourage one
afternoon to visit the shops on Rabat Street – that\’\’s a little street
just off Moscow\’\’s main shopping area. Even though our visit was
a surprise, every Russian there immediately recognized us and
called out our names, and reached for our hands. We were just
about swept away by the warmth. You could almost feel the
possibilities in all that joy. But within seconds, a KGB detail
pushed their way toward us and began pushing and shoving the
people in the crowd. It was an interesting moment. It reminded
me that while the man on the street in the Soviet Union yearns
for peace, the government is Communist. And those who run it
are Communists, and that means we and they view such issues as
freedom and human rights very differently.
We must keep up our guard, but we must also continue to work
together to lessen and eliminate tension and mistrust. My view is
that President Gorbachev is different from previous Soviet
leaders. I think he knows some of the things wrong with his
society and is trying to fix them. We wish him well. And we\’\’ll
continue to work to make sure that the Soviet Union that
eventually emerges from this process is a less threatening one.
What it all boils down to is this. I want the new closeness to
continue. And it will, as long as we make it clear that we will
continue to act in a certain way as long as they continue to act in
a helpful manner. If and when they don\’\’t, at first pull your
punches. If they persist, pull the plug. It\’\’s still trust but verify. It\’\’s
still play, but cut the cards. It\’\’s still watch closely. And don\’\’t be
afraid to see what you see.
I\’\’ve been asked if I have any regrets. Well, I do. The deficit is
one. I\’\’ve been talking a great deal about that lately, but tonight
isn\’\’t for arguments. And I\’\’m going to hold my tongue. But an
observation: I\’\’ve had my share of victories in the Congress, but
what few people noticed is that I never won anything you didn\’\’t
win for me. They never saw my troops; they never saw Reagan\’\’s
regiments, the American people. You won every battle with
every call you made and letter you wrote demanding action.
Well, action is still needed. If we\’\’re to finish the job of Reagan\’\’s
regiments, [they] will have to become the Bush brigades. Soon
he\’\’ll be the chief, and he\’\’ll need you every bit as much as I did.
Finally, there is a great tradition of warnings in presidential
farewells, and I\’\’ve got one that\’\’s been on my mind for some time.
But oddly enough it starts with one of the things I\’\’m proudest of
in the past eight years: the resurgence of national pride that I
called the new patriotism. This national feeling is good, but it
won\’\’t count for much, and it won\’\’t last unless it\’\’s grounded in
thoughtfulness and knowledge.
An informed patriotism is what we want. And are we doing a
good enough job teaching our children what America is and what
she represents in the long history of our world? Those of us who
are over 35 or so years of age grew up in a different America.
We were taught, very directly, what it means to be an American.
And we absorbed, almost in the air, a cove of country and an
appreciation of its institutions. If you didn\’\’t get these things from
your family, you got them from the neighborhood, from the
father down the street who fought in Korea or the family who
lost someone at Anzio. Or you could get a sense of patriotism
from school. And if all else failed, you could get a sense of
patriotism from the popular culture. The movies celebrated
democratic values and implicitly reinforced the idea that
America was special. TV was like that, too, through the mid-
sixties.
But now, we\’\’re about to enter the nineties, and some things have
changed. Younger parents aren\’\’t sure that an unambivalent
appreciation of America is the right thing to teach modern
children. And as for those who create the popular culture, well-
grounded patriotism is no longer the style. Our spirit is back, but
we haven\’\’t re-institutionalized it. We\’\’ve got to do a better job of
getting across that America is freedom – freedom of speech,
freedom of religion, freedom of enterprise. And freedom is
special and rare. It\’\’s fragile; it needs production [protection].
So, we\’\’ve got to teach history based not on what\’\’s in fashion but
what\’\’s important: why the Pilgrims came here, who Jimmy
Doolittle was, and what those 30 seconds over Tokyo meant.
You know, four years ago, on the 40th anniversary of D-Day, I
read a letter from a young woman writing of her late father,
who\’\’d fought on Omaha Beach. Her name was Lisa Zanatta
Henn, and she said, "we will always remember, we will never
forget what the boys of Normandy did." Well, let\’\’s help her keep
her word. If we forget what we did, we won\’\’t know who we are.
I\’\’m warning of an eradication of that – of the American memory
that could result, ultimately, in an erosion of the American spirit.
Let\’\’s start with some basics: more attention to American history
and a greater emphasis on civic ritual. And let me offer lesson
number one about America: all great change in America begins
at the dinner table. So, tomorrow night in the kitchen I hope the
talking begins. And children, if your parents haven\’\’t been
teaching you what it means to be an American, let \’\’em know and
nail \’\’em on it. That would be a very American thing to do.
And that\’\’s about all I have to say tonight. Except for one thing.
The past few days when I\’\’ve been at that window upstairs, I\’\’ve
thought a bit of the "shining city upon a hill." The phrase comes
from John Winthrop, who wrote it to describe the America he
imagined. What he imagined was important because he was an
early Pilgrim, an early freedom man. He journeyed here on what
today we\’\’d call a little wooden boat; and like the other Pilgrims,
he was looking for a home that would be free.
I\’\’ve spoken of the shining city all my political life, but I don\’\’t
know if I ever quite communicated what I saw when I said it. But
in my mind it was a tall proud city built on rocks stronger than
oceans, wind-swept, God- blessed, and teeming with people of
all kinds living in harmony and peace, a city with free ports that
hummed with commerce and creativity, and if there had to be
city walls, the walls had doors and the doors were open to
anyone with the will and the heart to get here. That\’\’s how I saw
it, and see it still.
And how stands the city on this winter night? More prosperous,
more secure, and happier than it was eight years ago. But more
than that; after 200 years, two centuries, she still stands strong
and true on the granite ridge, and her glow has held steady no
matter what storm. And she\’\’s still a beacon, still a magnet for all
who must have freedom, for all the pilgrims from all the lost
places who are hurtling through the darkness, toward home.
We\’\’ve done our part. And as I walk off into the city streets, a
final word to the men and women of the Reagan revolution, the
men and women across America who for eight years did the
work that brought America back. My friends, we did it. We
weren\’\’t just marking time. We made a difference. We made the
city stronger. We made the city freer, and we left her in good
hands. All in all, not bad, not bad at all.
And so, good-bye, God bless you, and God bless the United
States of America.
—
Bar Chat will return on Thursday.
