Commencement Address at the College of William & Mary

I’m delighted and honored to be with you today. This is actually my second straight year attending William and Mary Commencement weekend. Last year I was here not as a speaker but as a parent, watching my son, Ben, graduate as part of the class of 2005.

I imagine he had a lot in common with all of you.

Like you, he was full of excitement at the thought of crossing the goal line with a degree from William and Mary.

Like you, he felt the ultimate achievement was within reach – finally finishing the lemonade and sugar cookies that were first set out for him at orientation four years before.

Like you, he had wonderful things to say about his new friends.
Like you he had wonderful things to say about his professors.
And like you, he had … things to say about the Administration.

But there was one thing that made my son’s class of 2005 fundamentally different than the class of 2006. His entry class was the last class of an era that passed far too suddenly. That era began on 11/9, on November 11, 1989 when the Berlin Wall fell, and ended on 9/11, 2001 when the Twin Towers collapsed.

When Ben and his classmates headed to college, foreign policy was almost an afterthought to many Americans. His greatest anxiety when he arrived on campus in August 2001 was meeting his new roommate – a graduate of a private school in Western Massachusetts. He feared a snooty New Englander and imagined a dorm room where even the chairs would have upturned collars with Ralph Lauren polo insignia. His roommate, it turned out, imagined someone measuring the wall to install a gun rack.

You, on the other hand, entered William and Mary in August 2002 with the full knowledge that you were living in the "Day After" world of 9/11. That world was fundamentally different -- much as Pearl Harbor abruptly changed the world of those who came before you.

You have now spent four years at William and Mary immersed in the international politics of that changed world, separating the permanent from the transient, and the sound bite from the rigorous. That is what you can look back on after four years and what you will take with you. That, and whatever you might remember about this speech, but I have no illusions.

Today, I could talk about the current debate in Washington over specific policies. Is the doctrine of pre-emption dangerous? Can the Global War on Terror succeed? I could survey all the "isms" – liberalism, realism, progressivism, including the "isms" of how we should act: unilateralism or "assertive multilateralism". I would rather step back and share with you what I take with me from my 30 years in government and quarter of a century as a professor teaching American foreign policy, and it is this: great challenges confronting the United States always ignite great debates, not about specific policies per se, but about how America sees itself, and its role in the world. And how we see ourselves and our role in the world has a profound effect on the freedom and well being not only of our fellow Americans, but on men, women and children across the globe.

This great debate – what America stands for and how we should engage with the world -- is older than the American Republic itself. One of its earliest participants was actually a student here at William and Mary. I’m referring to Thomas Jefferson. Oh yes, I know…many Virginians say that Jefferson should not be associated with William and Mary, but with what you William and Mary students call that AP High School in Charlottesville.

But it was here that Jefferson formed his ideas about liberty, about man and nature, and about America’s role. It was Jefferson who would go on to argue that American foreign policy must be grounded on moral principles.

And it was Jefferson who stood as the intellectual counterweight to Alexander Hamilton in President Washington’s cabinet. In 1793, the issue was whether or not the United States should honor its treaty obligations and support the French. Hamilton used public pamphlets – the CNN of his time – to argue that our Treaty of Friendship with France should be abrogated in the name of America’s national interest. Jefferson argued that we were morally obliged to come to the defense of France, and that the international system should be held to the same moral values that apply to citizens.

It all came down to a basic choice: deal with the world as you find it, or deal with the world as you wish it to be. It’s a tricky balance, I know. Deal with the world as you find it and you might end up misreading new forces in history – forces that can usher in new opportunities for peace or new threats of war. Deal with the world as you wish it to be and you could overreach. But try as you might – and those of you who will enter the international relations field no doubt will be tempted – you cannot separate the realist and idealist components of our foreign policy, except at great peril.

A century ago, the realist-idealist tugging and pulling was between Theodore Roosevelt who argued for American intervention in the Great War to "smash German militarism", and Woodrow Wilson who argued that America should enter the war to make the world safe for democracy.

A soldier already two years older than the cut-off point for military service was to sail to fight in France carrying Wilson’s hopes, along with 6 pairs of eyeglasses. Thirty years after Wilson addressed a joint session of Congress asking for a declaration of war, that same Dough Boy stood before his joint session of Congress, stating: "It must be the policy of the United States to support free people who are resisting attempted subjugation by armed minorities or outside pressures." Harry Truman – the man Dean Acheson called "the captain with the mighty heart" -- divided the world between those who were free and those for whom the dream of freedom must be kept alive.

I could go on: President Kennedy’s inaugural address and his pronouncement of the New Frontier for liberty; President Carter’s commencement at Notre Dame nearly 30 years ago, and his call for power for humane purposes; President Reagan’s bedrock belief in the triumph of liberty; and President Bush’s global Freedom Agenda.

All of these calls to national action touched a deep chord in the American conscience and all had in common the conviction that America cannot base its policy on realpolitik or narrow national interest alone. And each of these policies not only stirred great controversy, each had profound consequences: For Truman, the Chinese civil war and Korean wars; for Kennedy, Vietnam; for Carter, the disasters in Iran and Afghanistan; for Reagan a complete rupture in US-Soviet relations; and for Bush 43, the rocky road in Iraq.

Yet, despite all this history of debate, it still comes as a surprise to many of our friends abroad that Americans actually wrestle with ideas. Three years ago, in the aftermath of the Iraq war, I was sent behind enemy lines – I went to Paris to attempt to heal the bitter divisions over Iraq. I sat for over two hours with the chief editors of the major French press. Toward the end of the session, one editor said to me: "Our readers are comfortable in the world of caricature. What really unsettles them is when they face the fact that you Americans actually debate ideas about your policies, and your role in the world."

It’s not just our allies the French who like to caricature our political culture and our policies. We all enjoy John Stewart’s satire or the Colbert Report – I know I do. They help expose our foibles, keep us on our toes, and remind us that self-directed humor is the best antidote to hubris. But no one should ever make the mistake of confusing Americans’ faith in the power of democratic principles or our determination to act on them with simplemindedness or naivete.

Now, what does all of this have to do with my role as Assistant Secretary of State for Democracy, Human Rights, and Labor? It is this: My colleagues and I live this debate every single day. My bureau was actually created in 1977 by the Congress, which felt that our foreign policy had been damaged by a surfeit of commitments and a deficit of morality. Ever since, Democrats and Republicans, liberals and conservatives, or any "Neo-flavor" you like: neo-liberal, neo-conservative, neo-progressive -- have all sought to direct the work of human rights and democracy promotion.

Every day, my Bureau helps to fashion and carry out policies to advance fundamental freedoms and democratic principles. But in so doing, we are guided by seven realities.

The First Reality is that our activism has made human rights and democracy part of the international political landscape. Looking over the events of the Middle East, a prominent European diplomat told me last year that once again the United States has proven that nothing happens until the United States moves. Indeed, he said it had become impossible for him to attend any meeting of the European Union on the greater Middle East without someone asking him: "What are you doing to advance basic reforms in the region?" I do not suggest that every country has joined in supporting this goal. What I do believe is that every major country must confront this challenge. In the Middle East and elsewhere, how rulers rule does have an impact on our security. Woodrow Wilson turned out to be right after all. The character of a regime does matter. Advancing freedom is not just a moral or a humanitarian calling, it is a strategic imperative.

Second Reality: Democracy promotion cannot be imposed. By democracy’s very definition, a system that is imposed cannot be democratic. But democracy can be nurtured. For years we heard democracy could not take root in the Middle East. Last November, I accompanied Secretary Rice to Bahrain for the meeting of the Forum for the Future, a multilateral conference established by the United States and its G-8 partners. The Forum is intended to advance political, economic, and educational reform from Morocco to Afghanistan. Back in 2004, when we were pressing for the Forum’s creation, many European diplomats told us the countries of the Middle East would never endorse it. One told me that going down this path would lead to "Iraq in slow motion." Yet, only a year later, all of the governments and more than 40 NGOs from within the Middle East participated in the Forum. The NGOs pressed an agenda of political reform, economic opportunity, educational advancement, and gender equality.

Third Reality: Democracy is not just about elections. Think of a Jeffersonian-Hamiltonian meeting of the minds. Jefferson would bring to the table the right of assembly, association and free speech. Hamilton would bring to the table the right to institutions of government that are transparent, responsive, and accountable. Democracy requires elections, yes, but also a robust civil society and good governance.

Fourth: Democracy promotion is not about achieving perfection. Perfection can never be attained. Indeed, democracy is a system of, by and for the people based on the assumption that human beings are flawed creatures and that therefore there must be checks and balances and other correctives. Democracy promotion is about working hard to get the trajectory right. When I meet with Secretary Rice, the question that comes up the most is: "What is the trajectory?" Is the country more responsive to its citizens? Is a culture of just laws taking root? Some countries may remain fragile for quite some time. Others may backslide. Democracy is not a linear process, nor is success guaranteed.

Fifth: Democracy promotion can never be the sole driving force of our foreign policy. It will always co-exist with other objectives and interests: curbing the spread of weapons of mass destruction, dampening regional rivalries, developing better economic relations. When we press, we press for democratic values to have a voice at the table.

Sixth: Democracy promotion is not about pushing a single model – a one size fits all – for every country. What one needs to do to protect democracy in Venezuela is different than what one needs to do to advance it in Pakistan. The values are the same, but the tools must vary.

And the Seventh Reality: democracy promotion is a multi-generational effort. When Secretary Rice was sworn in as Secretary of State she asked us to ensure that junior officers would be in attendance. Her message was clear: the work we start in 2005 will not necessarily bear fruit in one, two or even ten years. But, as Secretary Rice says, it is urgent work that must not be delayed.

The United States is not a status quo power – we never have been since our earliest days as a nation. The democratic principles upon which our nation was founded are revolutionary principles. That said, we are also a practical people. Our human rights and democracy work is shaped by reality, but reality is shaped by our work for human rights and democracy.

But what, many ask, gives us the right to press other nations on human rights and democracy?

Certainly there is enough in the public arena – from Abu Ghraib to Guantanamo – that allows pundits to tell us: "You have no moral standing." My answer is simple: America’s imperfections do not rob us of the right – I would add the responsibility – to help others. If other countries want to point out our shortcomings, let them. Every year, my Bureau produces a report on the human rights practices of every country around the globe. It’s the law, mandated by Congress. After we released our report this year, the Chinese government released a report on us – I even got a copy just after I held a press conference to highlight our report. I was struck by the sources the Chinese cited: The New York Times, The Washington Post, the Department of Justice web site. What the Chinese inadvertently showed is the strength of democracy and its self-corrective mechanisms: a vibrant press, a strong legislature, the rule of law.

There’s another answer I give to the question: "What gives you the right?", and it is this: if not us, who? Day after day, I meet men and women from across the globe who look to the United States for help. A Burmese woman forced to flee her country at the age of 16, who by the age of 22 had founded an organization to help her fellow Burmese in the refugee camps in Northern Thailand. A young woman who was gang raped in a so-called honor crime in a remote village in Pakistan. Instead of committing suicide from shame as tradition dictates, she went to work with dignity and determination to end such crimes and help poor, rural women like herself gain an education and press for their rights. She started a school for poor boys and girls – a school in which she herself now studies as a fifth-grade pupil. Advocacy organizations – you know them well – Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch and others – who are not shy about criticizing some of our policies – routinely ask us to help the oppressed throughout the globe.

The other question I frequently get is: "Does our championing of human rights and democracy really matter?" "Isn’t it a never-ending task?" "Isn’t it futile?"

Yes, this is a long, hard effort. It requires persistence. It demands commitment. We can get tired, but we must never get discouraged. Whenever I get tired after a long day of work, I think, I have no right to be weary.

Not as long as people such as Aung San Suu Kyi in Burma demand the restoration of democratic rights and as a result spend years of their lives under house arrest.

Not as long as people as young as you huddle for days in a town square in Kiev in the dead of winter demanding a legitimate election,

Not as long as children in northern Uganda who have yet to reach their 15th birthday flee to cities every night to avoid being kidnapped and forced into becoming child soldiers.

We can all point to extraordinary people and stories that inspire us. For me it is the story of how the first Helsinki monitoring group was formed 30 years ago yesterday. On May 12, 1976, a small circle of human rights activists held a press conference in the Moscow apartment of Nobel Laureate Andrei Sakharov. They boldly announced that they had formed a citizen’s group to promote the Soviet Union’s implementation of the 1975 Helsinki accord -- an agreement linking security among states to respect for human rights within states. The group’s leader, physicist Yuri Orlov, asked all those present to join him in the traditional toast of Soviet dissidents. He then raised a glass of vodka, smiled, and said: "To the success of our hopeless cause!"

Hopeless? It seemed so at the time. The Soviet Union was waging proxy war on five continents, it commanded 30,000 nuclear warheads, and had an entrenched totalitarian system entering its 6^th decade.

Yet, thanks in great measure to the courage, perseverance and sacrifice of the Moscow Helsinki Group and other groups like them, and to the moral support they received from the United States and other free nations, we have seen hopeless causes transformed into historic changes.

I do not know how many of you will make international relations your field. My sense is that I may run into some of you at some point. I have two William and Mary graduates on my staff – Class of 1993 and Class of 1999. Whether you choose a career in government or law, business, teaching, or another calling, all of you can be a participant in civil society – either in this country or in your home countries. You can be part of the debate over what kind of world you want for yourselves and your families and what kind of role your country should play. You can find heroes and heroines with stories that inspire you to action.

As William and Mary graduates, somewhere inside you will always feel the idealism of Jefferson and the realism of Hamilton. Honor that legacy. Join the great and continuing debate. It is the best way to build a world that will never be perfect, but a world that can be far better than the one we leave to you.

Thank you and congratulations!