Turning Obama’s turgid prose into something more lucid and elegant
One of the things I like to do best as a lawyer is to take another lawyer’s draft and edit it. I change the content a bit, move ideas around and tighten the language. Usually, the end product is more flowing and elegant than the original. I decided to amuse myself and do the same with Barack Obama’s Nobel Prize speech. You can see the original speech here.
I haven’t changed the core issues I think Obama was trying to make. I’ve simply rewritten the speech so that it’s more simple and less Obama-centric. The one thing that I can tell you with absolute assurance is that Obama and is team write really boring speeches. Pedantic, pompous, self-involved and unfocused. I’ve removed a whole bunch of “I’s” or, at least, softened them by allowing Obama too look beyond himself before circling back to himself. So, without further ado, the following is the speech I would have handed to Obama (including his stupid waffle about climate change and human perfection, and his belief that the antisemitic Gandhi was imbued with love for all) had I been his editor.
Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, Distinguished Members of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, citizens of America, and citizens of the world:
Thank you so much for awarding me this prize. I am both grateful and humbled. The Nobel Prize speaks to our highest aspirations: the world may be hard and cruel, but we are not mere prisoners of fate. Our actions matter, and we can bend history towards justice.
Although this Prize is called the “Nobel Peace Prize,” we know that there can be no peace without justice. Absent justice, peace, as Tacitus said, is a desert and no more. It is this relentless quest for justice that should blunt some of the more severe criticism directed at the Prize Committee’s decision to award the Prize to me. Critics have complained, correctly, that I am a neophyte, at the beginning of my journey, not the end. They have also pointed out, against correctly, that there are others in the world, living in prisons to silence their voices, laboring among the poor and dispossessed, daily engaging quiet acts of courage and compassion, who deserve this prize more than a politician who has yet to make a mark. The loudest voices, however, have argued that a president who is the Commander-in-Chief of a nation engaged in, not one, but two wars, cannot receive a “peace” prize. This argument represents a profound failure to understand the notion of a just war.
War is part of the human condition. It has been with us since the dawn of time as tribes, and then nations, jostled each other for resources and power. Civilization has seen nations attempt to contain war through diplomacy and, if that fails, through rules of war that, we hope, lessen its cruelty and devastation.
With the American Revolution, the notion of a “just war” (although the Founding Fathers did not use that name) first emerged. The just war contemplates a war fought primarily to advance individual freedom. In addition to having freedom as its centerpiece, a just war must be waged as a last resort or in self-defense; use proportional force; and, when possible, spare civilians.
Just wars are not without their price. Our nation, when it fought its Civil War to free African-Americans from the searing burden of slavery, lost more than 600,000 men to death and disease. The war culminated with the murder of our nation’s Commander in Chief, Abraham Lincoln. The ferocious battle the Allied nations waged against the Nazis, who sought to exterminate or enslave those they feared and disdained, resulted in X million deaths directly related to combat, with a further X million civilians dying, either from Nazi depredations or as straightforward casualties of war.
Faced with destruction at hitherto unparalleled levels, America led the post-war world in constructing an architecture to keep the peace. Thus, the years after 1945 saw the Marshall Plan, the United Nations, mechanisms to govern how war is waged, and treaties to protect human rights, prevent genocide and restrict the most dangerous weapons.
In many ways, these efforts succeeded. Yes, we have seen terrible wars and atrocities, but we have not had a Third World War. The Cold War, which my nation spearheaded, ended with jubilant crowds dismantling the Berlin Wall. Capitalism, which harnesses man’s energy, inventiveness and initiative, has seen billions rise up from poverty. People around the world aspire to liberty, self-determination, equality and the rule of law. We are the heirs of the fortitude and foresight of generations past, and it is a legacy for which my own country is rightfully proud.
Something has changed since the end of the Cold War, however. The notion of nations waging war against each other within specific geographic boundaries has been replaced by an fundamentalist religious ideology that moves across the world, unhindered by national borders. With non-governmental entities now engaging in war unfettered by treaties, rules or borders, terrorism has gained disproportionate force, allowing a few small men with outsized rage to murder innocents on a horrific scale.
Moreover, wars between nations have increasingly given way to wars within nations. The resurgence of ethnic or sectarian conflicts, the growth of secessionist movements, insurgencies, and failed states have increasingly trapped civilians in unending chaos. In today’s wars, many more civilians are killed than soldiers. Each sows the seeds for future conflict, destroys economies, tears societies apart, creates refugees, and scars the next generation.
There is no definitive solution to the problems of war. It is clear, though, that we in the world who have the power to do so must emulate our forebearers with vision, hard work and perseverance. Ultimately, it is likely that an amalgam of both old and new approaches will lead the way to a future that sees a just peace spread to more nations. The one thing we do know is that we will not eradicate violent conflict in our lifetimes. Human nature being what it is, there will be times when nations — acting individually or in concert — will find the use of force not only necessary but morally justified.
Martin Luther King understood this principle when, at this same ceremony, he said “Violence never brings permanent peace. It solves no social problem: It merely creates new and more complicated ones.”
While it is beguiling to imagine a world in which the leaders of civilized nations can emulate King and Gandhi, and achieve justice solely through non-violent resistance, that is not a reasonable dream. Although King and Gandhi, and their myriad followers showed inspiring courage, commitment and bravery, it is important to remember that they fought their battles against nations that were fundamentally committed to to justice, even though those same nations erred badly in their dealings with both slaves and subjects. For that reason, even as they tried vigorously to protect their wrongful status quos, their inherent morality prevented them from the type of brutality and genocide that the 20th Century saw in the Nazi Camps, in the Killing Fields of Cambodia, in the blood-drenched villages of Rwanda, and in any other of a hundred locations around the world.
Because the threats against us come from a foe implacably committed to the eradication of our people and our way of life, as a head of state sworn to protect and defend my nation, I cannot look only to King or Gandhi for guidance. I face the world as it is, and cannot stand idle in the face of threats to the American people. Make no mistake: Evil does exist in the world. A nonviolent movement could not have halted Hitlers armies. Negotiations cannot convince al-Qaidas leaders to lay down their arms. To say that force is sometimes necessary is not cynical. Instead, it recognizes history, the imperfections of man, and the limits of reason.
Sadly, many countries are still deeply ambivalent about military action, no matter that the cause is just. At times, this is joined by a reflexive suspicion of America, the world’s sole military superpower.
Yet the world must remember that it was not simply international institutions — not just treaties and declarations — that brought stability to a post-World War II world. Whatever mistakes we have made, the plain fact is this: The United States of America has helped underwrite global security for more than six decades with the blood of our citizens and the strength of our arms. The service and sacrifice of our men and women in uniform has promoted peace and prosperity from Germany to Korea, and enabled democracy to take hold in places like the Balkans. We have borne this burden, not because we seek to impose our will on other countries or drain their resources. Instead, we have done so out of enlightened self-interest — we believe that our children and grandchildren will enjoy a better, and safer, future, if all nations can enjoy the freedoms that create our prosperity.
To recognize a just war’s benefits is not to downplay the tragedy and sacrifices that follow in its wake. Nevertheless, we commit a moral error if we focus so blindly on war’s costs, that we forget its undoubted benefits. Recognizing that liberty can follow war’s path is not, of course, a call to war. It was President Kennedy who said “Let us focus on a more practical, more attainable peace, based not on a sudden revolution in human nature but on a gradual evolution in human institutions.”
While all nations must have the right to defends themselves, whether unilaterally or as part of a coalition, universally accepted standards of civilized conduct controlling the use of force strengthen those that hold to those standards, and isolate — and weaken — those who don’t. Thus, the world roundly condemned those terrorists who killed more than 3,000 people on 9/11 because of the moral injustice behind that use of force. The world also recognized that Saddam Hussein’s untempered aggression towards Kuwait demanded a response.
To the extent that America believes in standards for the use of force, she must apply them to herself as she does to other nations. This becomes particularly important when the purpose of military action extends beyond self-defense or the defense of one nation against an aggressor. More and more, we all confront difficult questions about how to prevent the slaughter of civilians by their own government, how to stop a civil war whose violence and suffering can engulf an entire region, or how to prevent a region from midwifing terrorists who function as free agents around the world, destroying as they go.
Keeping in mind these threats against the innocents, force can be justified on humanitarian grounds, as it was in the Balkans, or in other places that have been scarred by war. Inaction tears at our conscience and can lead to more costly intervention later. That is why all responsible nations must embrace the role that militaries subject to a clear mandate can play to keep the peace.
Because America is committed to liberty at home and abroad, her commitment to global security will never waver. But in a world in which threats are more diffuse, and missions more complex, America cannot act alone. This is true in Afghanistan. This is true in failed states like Somalia, where terrorism and piracy is joined by famine and human suffering. And sadly, it will continue to be true in unstable regions for years to come.
With those sufferings in mind, people must abandon their simplistic belief that war and peace cannot exist in the same logical universe. The hard, cold fact is that the desire for peace is rarely enough to achieve it. Peace requires responsibility. Peace entails sacrifice. That is why NATO continues to be indispensable. That is why we must strengthen U.N. and regional peacekeeping, and not leave the task to a few countries. That is why we honor those who return home from peacekeeping and training abroad to Oslo and Rome; to Ottawa and Sydney; to Dhaka and Kigali — we honor them not as makers of war, but as wagers of peace.
That we are willing to fight wars to defend our own and others’ liberties does not mean, of course, that we can resort to savagery on the battlefield. Even as we make difficult decisions about going to war, we must also think clearly about how we fight it. The Nobel Committee recognized this truth in awarding its first prize for peace to Henry Dunant — the founder of the Red Cross, and a driving force behind the Geneva Conventions.
Where force is necessary, we have a moral and strategic interest in binding ourselves to certain rules of conduct. And even as we confront a vicious adversary that abides by no rules, the United States of America must remain a standard bearer in conducting war. That is what makes us different from those whom we fight. That is a source of our strength. That is why I prohibited torture. That is why I ordered the prison at Guantanamo Bay closed. And that is why I have reaffirmed America’s commitment to abide by the Geneva Conventions. We lose ourselves when we compromise the very ideals that we fight to defend. And we honor those ideals by upholding them not just when it is easy, but when it is hard.
War can achieve peace but America, like all nations, desires just and lasting peace without war. Their are three ways we can make this more likely.
First, in dealing with those nations that break rules and laws, we must develop alternatives to violence that are tough enough to change behavior — for if we want a lasting peace, then the words of the international community must mean something. Those regimes that break the rules must be held accountable. Sanctions must exact a real price. Intransigence must be met with increased pressure — and such pressure exists only when the world stands together as one.
One urgent example is the effort to prevent the spread of nuclear weapons and, ideally, to seek a world without them. In the middle of the last century, nations agreed to be bound by a treaty whose bargain is clear: All will have access to peaceful nuclear power; those without nuclear weapons will forsake them; and those with nuclear weapons will work toward disarmament. I am committed to upholding this treaty. It is a centerpiece of my foreign policy. And I am working with President Medvedev to reduce America’s and Russia’s nuclear stockpiles.
But it is also incumbent upon all of us to insist that nations like Iran and North Korea do not game the system. Those who claim to respect international law cannot avert their eyes when those laws are flouted. Those who care for their own security cannot ignore the danger of an arms race in the Middle East or East Asia. Those who seek peace cannot stand idly by as nations arm themselves for nuclear war.
The same principle applies to those who violate international law by brutalizing their own people. When there is genocide in Darfur, systematic rape in Congo or repression in Burma — there must be consequences. And the closer we stand together, the less likely we will be faced with the choice between armed intervention and complicity in oppression.
Second, we must clearly understand what type of peace we seek. Peace is not merely the absence of visible conflict. Only a just peace based upon the individual’s inherent rights and dignity can truly be lasting. America’s Founders advanced this idea in the 18th century, and it saw a resurgence after World War II. It was then that the members of the United Nations, surveying the devastation the war left in its wake, drafted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. This document recognizes that, if nations did not protect human rights, peace is a hollow promise.
All too often, however, we turn a blind eye to human rights. In some countries, the failure to uphold human rights is excused by the false suggestion that these are Western principles, foreign to local cultures or stages of a nations development. Or, as in America, people equally committed to human rights, argue over the best means to achieve that goal.
It need not be so complicated. Human rights, and their sister, peace, thrive when people have the right to speak freely, worship as they please, elect their leaders without coercion, and assemble without fear. Nations that confuse order with suppression create pent-up grievances that fester and then explode. Only when Europe became free did it finally find peace, both at home and abroad. Nations whose peace is based up0n liberty, not suppression, are peaceful nations. America, for example, has never fought a war against a democracy, and our closest friends are governments that protect the rights of their citizens. No matter how callously defined, neither America’s interests — nor the worlds — are served by denying human aspirations.
So even as we respect the unique culture and traditions of different countries, America will always be a voice for the universal desire for liberty. We will bear witness to the quiet dignity of reformers like Aung Sang Suu Kyi; to the bravery of Zimbabweans who cast their ballots in the face of beatings; to the hundreds of thousands who have marched silently through the streets of Iran. It is telling that the leaders of these governments fear the aspirations of their own people more than the power of any other nation. And it is the responsibility of all free people and free nations to make clear to these movements that hope and history are on their side.
Importantly, we cannot provide human rights just with pretty speeches. At times, our efforts must be coupled with painstaking diplomacy. While it is true that engaging with repressive regimes lacks the satisfying purity of indignation, sanctions without outreach — and condemnation without discussion — can carry forward a crippling status quo. No repressive regime can move down a new path unless it has the choice of an open door.
In light of the Cultural Revolutions horrors, Nixon’s meeting with Mao appeared inexcusable — and yet it surely helped set China on a path where millions of its citizens have been lifted from poverty, and connected to open societies. Pope John Paul’s engagement with Poland created space, not just for the Catholic Church, but for labor leaders like Lech Walesa. Ronald Reagan’s efforts on arms control and embrace of perestroika not only improved relations with the Soviet Union, but empowered dissidents throughout Eastern Europe. There is no simple formula here. But we must try as best we can to balance isolation and engagement, pressure and incentives, so as to advance human rights and dignity over time.
Third, a just peace includes not only civil and political rights, but also economic security and opportunity. True peace is not just freedom from fear, but freedom from want.
It is undoubtedly true that development rarely takes root without security; it is also true that security does not exist where human beings do not have access to enough food, or clean water, or the medicine they need to survive. It does not exist where children cannot aspire to a decent education or a job that supports a family. The absence of hope can rot a society from within.
And that is why helping farmers feed their own people — or nations educate their children and care for the sick — is not mere charity. It is also why the world must come together to confront climate change. There is little scientific dispute that if we do nothing, we will face more drought, famine and mass displacement that will fuel more conflict for decades. For this reason, it is not merely scientists and activists who call for swift and forceful action. Military leaders in my country and others who understand that our common security hangs in the balance seek action too.
Agreements among nations. Strong institutions. Support for human rights. Investments in development. All of these are vital ingredients in bringing about the evolution about which President Kennedy spoke. I do not believe, however, that merely desiring these goals is enough, without more, to achieve them. Instead, we must expand our moral imagination by insisting that that there is something irreducible that we all share.
As the world grows smaller, you might think it would be easier for human beings to recognize how similar we are, to understand that we all basically want the same things, that we all hope for the chance to live out our lives with some measure of happiness and fulfillment for ourselves and our families. The contrary, however, is true. People do not want to be a tiny generic speck on the planet. They desire a recognizable identity, whether they ally themselves with a nation, a race, a tribe or, perhaps most powerfully, a religion. In some places, people’s fear that their identity will be erased through globalization, or even through identity seepage across the nearest border, leads to conflict.
Most dangerously, this conflict shows itself in the way that Islamic extremists use to justify the murder of innocents, whether the thousands of Americans who died in a single blow on 9/11, or the tens of thousands who have died in other parts of the world at the hands of these extremists. While these extremists are not the first to kill in God’s name, the fact remains that they are the men and women who do so in our time, and on my watch. They remind us that a Holy War, one that seeks to use violence to impose its religious beliefs and practices on others, can never be a just war. For if you truly believe that you are carrying out divine will, then there is no need for restraint — no need to spare the pregnant mother, or the medic, or even a person of ones own faith. Such a warped view of religion is not just incompatible with the concept of peace, but the purpose of faith — for the one rule that lies at the heart of every major religion is that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us.
Adhering to this law of mutual respect has always been a core struggle of human nature. Even as we are taught to respect others, we are fallible. We make mistakes, and fall victim to the temptations of pride, and power, and sometimes evil. Even those of us with the best intentions will at times fail to right the wrongs before us.
But we do not have to think that human nature is perfect for us to still believe that the human condition can be perfected. We do not have to live in an idealized world to reach for those ideals that will make it a better place. The nonviolence men like Gandhi and King practiced may not have been practical or possible in every circumstance, but their faith in human progress must always be the North Star that guides us on our journey.
For if we lose that faith — if we dismiss it as silly or naive, if we divorce it from the decisions that we make on issues of war and peace — then we lose what is best about humanity. We lose our sense of possibility. We lose our moral compass.
Like generations have before us, we must reject that future. As Dr. King said at this occasion so many years ago: “I refuse to accept despair as the final response to the ambiguities of history. I refuse to accept the idea that the ‘isness’ of man’s present nature makes him morally incapable of reaching up for the eternal ‘oughtness’ that forever confronts him.”
So let us reach for the world that ought to be — that spark of the divine that still stirs within each of our souls. Somewhere today, in the here and now, a soldier sees hes outgunned but stands firm to keep the peace. Somewhere today, in this world, a young protester awaits the brutality of her government, but has the courage to march on. Somewhere today, a mother facing punishing poverty still takes the time to teach her child, who believes that a cruel world still has a place for his dreams.
Let us live by their example. We can acknowledge that oppression will always be with us, and still strive for justice. We can admit the intractability of deprivation, and still strive for dignity. We can understand that there will be war, and still strive for peace. We can do that — for that is the story of human progress; that is the hope of all the world; and at this moment of challenge, that must be our work here on Earth.
I’d like to note something interesting here, which goes to my oft repeated point that liberals are lousy writers because they’re trying to disguise lousy ideas (something that comes through loud and clear in Supreme Court opinions). The passages in Obama’s speech that needed the least editing — that is, that were written in the most direct, clear language — were those that dealt with the fact that there is evil in the world, and that it often needs to be faced down with arms. Obama, or one of his speech writers, could not avoid the clarity of truth.
Also, did you notice that Obama mentioned both Reagan and Nixon as examples of leaders who were able to open doors through negotiation, not warfare. What he didn’t say, and I suspect he doesn’t understand, is that they were able to do so because, along with their soft speech, they provided themselves with big sticks — and their opponents knew that both Reagan and Nixon, if pushed, would use those sticks. No one thinks that Obama is armed with anything more than a soggy noodle and a handshake (or bow).
Mostly, though, I want to point out that I took a verbose, wandering, self-referential speech with 4,119 words, and reduced it to a tighter, occasionally smart and uplifting speech, with 3,943 words. If I could have leeched out some of the stupid content, I could have made it even shorter and smarter.
