Mario Cuomo leverer hovedtal til den demokratiske nationale konvention

Mario Cuomo leverer hovedtal til den demokratiske nationale konvention


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I en af ​​hans mest berømte taler, der blev holdt 16. juli 1984, rejser New Yorks guvernør Mario Cuomo sig til national opmærksomhed ved at fremhæve præsident Reagans fiaskoer.


Hvordan Mario Cuomos tale fra 1984 elektrificerede hans publikum

Den tidligere New York -guvernør Mario Cuomo, der døde den 1. januar, var 50 procent ansvarlig for min beslutning om at forfølge en karriere inden for journalistik og kommunikation. Ronald Reagan var ansvarlig for de øvrige 50 procent. Begge ledere satte gang i vores kollektive fantasi og afspejlede vores kampe, håb og drømme gennem deres skyhøje taler.

Ligesom mange andre blev jeg først opmærksom på Mario Cuomo, da han holdt en af ​​de største politiske taler i historien ved den demokratiske nationale konference den 16. juli 1984. Selvom han ikke var sit partis præsidentkandidat, efter talen ville mange ønske, at han havde været nomineret. Jeg var på gymnasiet dengang, og jeg husker, at mine forældre ville se Cuomo tale, fordi han var en italiensk-amerikansk katolik, som de var. Jeg husker, at jeg følte gåsehud, da Cuomo talte, og det var først senere - da jeg begyndte at studere kommunikationsteori - at jeg lærte hvorfor. Mario Cuomos ord, hvordan de blev udformet, og hvordan de blev leveret, holder stadig som et eksempel på tårnhøje oratorier.

Cuomos tale fra 1984 var stærkt afhængig af, hvad Aristoteles kaldte Pathos (følelser), historiefortælling. I denne strålende del af talen udfører Cuomo to ting i et afsnit - han etablerer Ethos (troværdighed) og forbinder med publikum gennem Pathos, historien om hans immigrantfar.

Den kamp for at leve med værdighed er den virkelige historie om den skinnende by. Og det er en historie, mine damer og herrer, som jeg ikke læste i en bog eller lærte i et klasseværelse. Jeg så det og levede det, som mange af jer. Jeg så en lille mand med tykke hård hud på begge hænder arbejde 15 og 16 timer om dagen. Jeg så ham engang bogstaveligt talt bløde fra bunden af ​​hans fødder, en mand, der kom her uuddannet, alene, ude af stand til at tale sproget, som lærte mig alt, hvad jeg havde brug for at vide om tro og hårdt arbejde.

Pathos er effektiv, når den er specifik, håndgribelig og konkret. Det menneskelige sind klarer sig ikke godt med abstraktioner. Historier, der er mere specifikke, er ofte mere overbevisende. Her er andre eksempler på, at Cuomo brugte noveller til at etablere en følelsesmæssig forbindelse med publikum.

Der er en anden del af den skinnende by den del, hvor nogle mennesker ikke kan betale deres realkreditlån, og de fleste unge ikke har råd til en, hvor eleverne ikke har råd til den uddannelse, de har brug for, og middelklasseforældre ser på de drømme, de holder for deres børn fordamper.

Der er ældre, der skælver i husenes kældre. Og der er mennesker, der sover i byens gader, i tagrenden, hvor glitteret ikke viser sig. Der er ghettoer, hvor tusinder af unge mennesker uden arbejde eller uddannelse hver dag giver deres liv til narkohandlere. Der er fortvivlelse, hr. Præsident, i ansigterne, som du ikke ser, på de steder, du ikke besøger i din skinnende by.

Cuomo brugte også den retoriske enhed kaldet Anaphora. Anaphora er simpelthen gentagelse af et ord eller en sætning i begyndelsen af ​​en sætning eller klausul. Det er en effektiv enhed, når en taler vil skitsere, hvad han eller hun tror på, eller hvad en organisation står for. Cuomo brugte anaphora til at fremhæve, hvad demokrater tror på, deres 'credo'.

Vi tror i kun den regering, vi har brug for, men vi insisterer på al den regering, vi har brug for.

Vi tror i en regering, der er præget af retfærdighed og rimelighed ...

Vi tror i en regering stærk nok til at bruge ord som "kærlighed" og "medfølelse" og smart nok til at omdanne vores ædleste ambitioner til praktiske realiteter.

Vi tror ved at opmuntre de dygtige ...

Vi tror i fast, men fair lov og orden ...

Vi tror stolt i fagbevægelsen ...

Vi tror i privatlivets fred for mennesker, åbenhed fra regeringens side.

Vi tror i borgerrettigheder, og vi tror i menneskerettigheder.

I de følgende to afsnit brugte Cuomo anaphora inden for anaphora, hvilket er svært at trække af.

Vi mener, at vi skal være USAs familie, der erkender, at vi i sagens kerne er bundet til hinanden, at problemerne for en pensioneret skolelærer i Duluth er vores problemer med, at barnets fremtid i Buffalo er vores fremtid, kampen for en handicappet mand i Boston for at overleve og leve anstændigt er vores kamp om, at en kvindes sult i Little Rock er vores sult om, at manglen overalt på at levere, hvad vi med rimelighed måtte, for at undgå smerte, er vores fiasko.

I den følgende del af talen laver Cuomo et hattrick og udfører tre ting i et afsnit. 1) Han angriber ethos (troværdighed) for den nuværende præsident, Ronald Reagan. 2) Han etablerede patos (følelser) gennem vignetter eller historier. 3) Han bruger anaphora til at styrke leverancen.

Måske, måske, hr. Formand, hvis du besøgte nogle flere steder, måske hvis du tog til Appalachia, hvor nogle stadig bor i skure, måske hvis du tog til Lackawanna, hvor tusinder af arbejdsløse stålarbejdere spekulerer på, hvorfor vi subsidierede udenlandsk stål. Måske - Måske, hr. Præsident, hvis du stoppede ind på et krisecenter i Chicago og talte med de hjemløse der måske, hr. Præsident, hvis du spurgte en kvinde, der var blevet nægtet den hjælp, hun havde brug for for at brødføde sine børn, fordi du sagde du havde brug for pengene til en skattelettelse for en millionær eller til et missil, vi ikke havde råd til at bruge.

Der er meget mere til talen end hvad jeg har beskrevet i denne klumme. Du kan læse hele udskriften af ​​Cuomos tale og se et 8-minutters uddrag her. Du vil bemærke, at Cuomo også brugte metaforer og analogier til at fremføre sin sag, to meget kraftfulde og effektive retoriske anordninger. Udspilning af Ronald Reagans metafor om landet som en "lysende by på en bakke", sagde Cuomo, at nationen mere lignede "en fortælling om to byer." Cuomo brugte en "vogntog" -analogi til at påpege forskellene mellem demokrater og republikanere.

Når jeg ser tilbage på den nat, hvor jeg så Cuomos tale, kan jeg huske, at jeg tænkte, at de ord, en leder bruger, og hvordan de leverer disse ord, kan få folk til at handle. Aristoteles mente, at alle borgeres evne til at tale overbevisende var afgørende for, at et demokrati kunne trives. Med det for øje har vi brug for veltalende og effektive talere som Mario Cuomo på begge sider af det politiske spektrum, fordi begge sider har meget reelle løsninger på verdens problemer. Begge sider har brug for stærke talspersoner til at bære budskabet, så vi som borgere kan tage virkelig informerede beslutninger.

Carmine Gallo er kommunikationstræner for verdens mest beundrede mærker, en populær hovedtaler og forfatter til flere bedst sælgende bøger, herunder Steve Jobs præsentationshemmeligheder, Apple -oplevelsen, og hans seneste Tal som TED: De 9 offentlige talende hemmeligheder i verdens bedste sind (navngivet af Amazon og SUCCESS magazine som en af ​​de bedste forretningsbøger fra 2014).


Mario Cuomo leverer hovedtal til den demokratiske nationale konvention - HISTORIE

Mange tak, mange tak. På vegne af Empire State og familien i New York, lad mig takke dig for det store privilegium at kunne tage fat på denne konvention.

Tillad mig venligst at springe historierne og poesien over og fristelsen til at beskæftige mig med fin, men vag retorik. Lad mig i stedet bruge denne værdifulde lejlighed til straks at behandle de spørgsmål, der skulle afgøre dette valg, og som vi alle ved, er afgørende for det amerikanske folk.

For ti dage siden indrømmede præsident Reagan, at selvom nogle mennesker i dette land syntes at have det godt i dag, var andre utilfredse, endda bekymrede, om sig selv, deres familier og deres fremtid.

Præsidenten sagde, at han ikke forstod den frygt. Han sagde, '' Hvorfor, dette land er en skinnende by på en bakke. ''

Og præsidenten har ret. På mange måder er vi '' en lysende by på en bakke. ''

Men den hårde sandhed er, at ikke alle deler denne bys pragt og herlighed.

En lysende by er måske alt, hvad præsidenten ser fra porten i Det Hvide Hus og verandaen på hans ranch, hvor alle ser ud til at klare sig godt.

Men der er en anden by, der er en anden del af den skinnende by, den del, hvor nogle mennesker ikke kan betale deres realkreditlån, og de fleste unge ikke har råd til en, hvor eleverne ikke har råd til den uddannelse, de har brug for, og middelklasseforældre ser på de drømme, de holder for deres børn, fordamper.

I denne del af byen er der flere fattige end nogensinde, flere familier i problemer. Flere og flere mennesker, der har brug for hjælp, men ikke kan finde den.

Endnu værre: Der er ældre, der skælver i husenes kældre.

Og der er mennesker, der sover i byens gader, i tagrenden, hvor glitteret ikke viser sig. 'Der er fortvivlelse, hr. Præsident'

Der er ghettoer, hvor tusinder af unge, uden job eller uddannelse b, hver dag giver deres liv til narkohandlere.

Der er fortvivlelse, hr. Præsident, i ansigterne, som du ikke ser, på de steder, du ikke besøger i din skinnende by.

Faktisk, hr. Præsident, dette er en nation - hr. Præsident, du burde vide, at denne nation mere er en '' Tale of Two Cities '' end den bare er en '' Shining City on a Hill. ''

Måske, hr. Præsident, hvis du besøgte nogle flere steder, måske hvis du tog til Appalachia, hvor nogle mennesker stadig bor i skure, måske hvis du tog til Lackawanna, hvor tusinder af arbejdsløse stålarbejdere spekulerer på, hvorfor vi subsidierer udenlandsk stål måske, hr. Præsident , hvis du stoppede ind på et krisecenter i Chicago og talte med nogle af de hjemløse der måske, hr. præsident, hvis du spurgte en kvinde, der var blevet nægtet den hjælp, hun havde brug for at fodre sine børn, fordi du sagde, at du havde brug for pengene til en skattelettelse for en millionær eller for et missil, vi ikke havde råd til at bruge - måske så ville du forstå.

Måske, hr. Formand. Men jeg er bange for ikke.

Fordi sandheden er, mine damer og herrer, at sådan blev vi advaret om, at det ville være.

Præsident Reagan fortalte os helt fra begyndelsen, at han troede på en slags social darwinisme. Den stærkeste overlever. '' Regeringen kan ikke gøre alt, '' fik vi at vide. '' Så det burde nøjes med at tage sig af de stærke og håbe det

økonomisk ambition og velgørenhed vil gøre resten. Gør de rige rigere, og det, der falder fra bordet, vil være nok for middelklassen og dem, der desperat prøver at arbejde sig ind i middelklassen. ''

Du ved, republikanerne kaldte det trickle-down, da Hoover prøvede det. Nu kalder de det forsyningssiden. Men det er den samme lysende by for de relativt få, der er så heldige at bo i dens gode kvarterer.

Men for de mennesker, der er udelukket, for de mennesker, der er lukket ude, er alt, hvad de kan gøre, at stirre på afstand på byens glitrende tårne.

Det er en gammel historie. Det er lige så gammelt som vores historie. 'Mod og tillid'

Forskellen mellem demokrater og republikanere er altid blevet målt i mod og tillid. Republikanerne mener, at vogntoget ikke når grænsen, medmindre nogle af de gamle, nogle af de unge, nogle af de svage efterlades ved siden af ​​sporet.

De stærke, de stærke, fortæller de os, vil arve jorden!

Vi demokrater tror på noget andet. Vi demokrater mener, at vi kan klare det hele vejen med hele familien intakt.

Og vi har mere end én gang.

Lige siden Franklin Roosevelt løftede sig fra sin kørestol for at løfte denne nation fra dens knæ. Vogntog efter vogntog. Til nye grænser for uddannelse, bolig, fred. Hele familien ombord. Rækker konstant ud for at udvide og forstørre den familie. Løfter dem op i vognen undervejs. Sorte og latinamerikanere og mennesker i alle etniske grupper og indianere - alle dem, der kæmper for at bygge deres familier og gøre krav på en lille andel af Amerika.

I næsten 50 år bar vi dem alle til nye niveauer af komfort og sikkerhed og værdighed, endda velstand.

Og husk dette, nogle af os er i dette rum i dag er her kun fordi denne nation havde den slags tillid.

Og det ville være forkert at glemme det. 'At redde nationen'

Så her er vi ved denne konvention for at minde os selv om, hvor vi kommer fra og kræve fremtiden for os selv og for vores børn. I dag opfordres vores store demokratiske parti, der har reddet denne nation fra depression, fra fascisme, fra racisme, fra korruption, til at gøre det igen - denne gang for at redde nationen fra forvirring og splittelse, fra truslen om en finanspolitisk katastrofe og mest af alt fra frygten for et atom -holocaust.

Men det bliver ikke let. Moe Udall har helt ret, det bliver ikke let. Og for at lykkes må vi besvare vores modstanders polerede og tiltalende retorik med en mere sigende rimelighed og rationalitet.

Vi skal vinde denne sag på grund af fortjenester.

Vi skal få den amerikanske offentlighed til at se forbi glitteret, ud over showmanship, til virkeligheden, tingenes hårde substans.

Og vi gør det ikke så meget med taler, der lyder godt som med taler, der er gode og lyde.

Ikke så meget med taler, der vil bringe folk på benene som med taler, der bringer folk til fornuft.

Vi skal få det amerikanske folk til at høre vores '' fortælling om to byer. ''

Vi må overbevise dem om, at vi ikke behøver at nøjes med to byer, at vi kan have en udelelig by, der skinner for alle dens mennesker.

Vi har ingen chance for at gøre det, hvis det, der kommer ud af denne konvention, er en babel af argumenterende stemmer. Hvis det er det, der høres i hele kampagnen, dissonante lyde fra alle sider, har vi ingen chance for at fortælle vores budskab.

For at lykkes bliver vi nødt til at overgive nogle små dele af vores individuelle interesser, til at bygge en platform, vi alle kan stå på, på en gang og komfortabelt og stolt synge ud. Vi har brug for en platform, vi alle kan blive enige om, så vi kan synge sandheden frem for nationen i kor, at høre dens logik så klar og befalende, at der ikke vil være en slank Madison Avenue -reklame, ingen genialitet, ingen kampsang i stand til at dæmpe sandheden. 'Den heldige og de venstre ud'

Vi demokrater skal forene. Vi demokrater skal forene, så hele nationen kan forene sig, for republikanerne vil bestemt ikke bringe dette land sammen. Deres politik deler nationen: i de heldige og de venstreorienterede, i de kongelige og rabalderne.

Republikanerne er villige til at behandle denne division som sejr. De ville skære denne nation i halve, i dem, der midlertidigt har det bedre og dem, der har det dårligere end før, og de vil kalde det division opsving.

Vi bør ikke være flove eller forfærdede eller chagrined, hvis foreningsprocessen er vanskelig, endda skæv til tider

Husk, at i modsætning til ethvert andet parti omfavner vi mænd og kvinder i enhver farve, enhver trosbekendelse, enhver orientering, enhver økonomisk klasse. I vores familie er alle samlet fra de dårlige fattige i Essex County i New York, til den oplyste velhavende af guldkysterne i begge ender af vores nation. Og derimellem er hjertet i vores valgkreds. Middelklassen, befolkningen ikke rig nok til at være bekymringsfri, men ikke fattig nok til at være på velfærd, middelklassen, dem, der arbejder for at leve, fordi de er nødt til det, ikke fordi en eller anden psykiater fortalte dem, at det var en bekvem måde at udfylde intervallet mellem fødsel og evighed. Hvid krave og blå krave. Unge fagfolk. Mænd og kvinder i små virksomheder er desperate efter den kapital og kontrakter, de har brug for for at bevise deres værd.

Vi taler for de minoriteter, der endnu ikke er kommet ind i mainstream.

Vi taler for etniske personer, der ønsker at tilføje deres kultur til den storslåede mosaik, der er Amerika.

Vi taler for kvinder, der er indignerede over, at denne nation nægter at ætske ind i vores regerings befalinger den enkle regel '' du må ikke synde mod lighed '', en regel så simpel - jeg ville sige, og jeg tør måske ikke, men jeg vil - Det er et bud så enkelt, at det kan staves med tre bogstaver: æra!

Vi taler for unge mennesker, der kræver uddannelse og en fremtid.

Vi taler for ældre borgere. Vi taler for ældre borgere, der er terroriseret af tanken om, at deres eneste sikkerhed, deres sociale sikring, er truet.

Vi søger millioner af mennesker, der kæmper for at bevare vores miljø mod grådighed og fra dumhed. Og vi taler for rimelige mennesker, der kæmper for at bevare vores eksistens fra en macho -uforsonlighed, der nægter at gøre intelligente forsøg på at diskutere muligheden for atom -holocaust med vores fjende. De nægter. De nægter, fordi de tror, ​​vi kan bunke missiler så højt, at de vil gennembore skyerne, og synet af dem vil skræmme vores fjender til underkastelse. 'Stolt over mangfoldighed'

Vi er stolte over denne mangfoldighed som demokrater. Vi er taknemmelige for det. Vi behøver ikke at fremstille det på den måde, som republikanerne vil i næste måned i Dallas, ved at støtte mannequin -delegerede på stævnegulvet.

Men vi, mens vi er stolte over denne mangfoldighed, betaler vi en pris for det.

De forskellige mennesker, vi repræsenterer, har forskellige synspunkter, og nogle gange konkurrerer de og endda debatterer og endda argumenterer. Det var det, vores primærvalg handlede om.

Men nu er primærvalget slut, og det er på tide, at vi vælger vores kandidater og vores platform her for at låse arme og gå ind i denne kampagne sammen.

Hvis du har brug for mere inspiration til at lægge en lille del af din egen forskel til side for at skabe denne konsensus, er alt hvad du skal gøre at reflektere over, hvad den republikanske politik med splittelse og kajole har gjort mod dette land siden 1980.

Præsidenten har bedt det amerikanske folk om at bedømme ham om, hvorvidt han har opfyldt de løfter, han gav for fire år siden. Jeg mener, at vi som demokrater burde acceptere denne udfordring, og lad os et øjeblik overveje, hvad han sagde, og hvad han har gjort.

Inflationen er faldet siden 1980. Men ikke på grund af det mirakel på udbudssiden, som præsidenten lovede os. Inflationen blev reduceret på den gammeldags måde, med en recession, den værste siden 1932. Hvordan kunne vi nu - vi kunne have bragt inflationen ned på den måde. Hvordan gjorde han det? - 55.000 konkurser. To års massiv arbejdsløshed. To hundrede tusinde landmænd og ranchere tvang jorden af. Flere hjemløse - mere hjemløse end nogensinde siden den store depression i 1932. Mere sultne, i denne verden med enorm velstand, USA, mere sultne, mere fattige - de fleste af dem kvinder. Og - og han betalte en anden ting - et underskud på næsten 200 milliarder dollar, der truede vores fremtid. Nu skal vi få det amerikanske folk til at forstå dette underskud, fordi de ikke gør det.

Præsidentens underskud er en direkte og dramatisk afvisning af hans løfte i 1980 om at balancere vores budget inden 1983.

Hvor stor er den? Underskuddet er det største i universets historie Præsident Carters sidste budget havde et underskud på mindre end en tredjedel af dette underskud.

Det er et underskud, der ifølge præsidentens egen finanspolitiske rådgiver kan vokse til op til 300 milliarder dollars om året, for '' så langt øjet rækker. ''

Og mine damer og herrer, det er en gæld så stor, at næsten halvdelen af ​​de penge, vi opkræver fra den personlige indkomstskat hvert år, går bare til at betale renterne. 'Realkreditlån til børns fremtid'

Det er et pant i vores børns fremtid, der kun kan betales i smerte, og som kunne bringe denne nation på knæ.

Tag nu ikke mit ord for det - jeg er demokrat.

Spørg de republikanske investeringsbanker på Wall Street, hvad de mener, at chancerne for, at dette opsving er permanent, er. Hvis de ikke er for flove til at fortælle dig sandheden, vil de sige, at de er forfærdede og bange for præsidentens underskud. Spørg dem, hvad de synes om vores økonomi, nu hvor den er blevet drevet af dollarens forvrængede værdi tilbage til dens koloniale tilstand, nu eksporterer vi landbrugsprodukter og importerer fremstillede.

Spørg de republikanske investeringsbanker, hvad de forventer, at renten vil være et år fra nu. Og spørg dem, hvis de tør fortælle dig sandheden, vil du lære af dem, hvad de forudsiger for inflationen om et år fra nu på grund af underskuddet.

Hvor vigtigt er dette spørgsmål om underskuddet?

Tænk praktisk over det: Hvilken chance ville den republikanske kandidat have haft i 1980, hvis han havde fortalt det amerikanske folk, at han havde til hensigt at betale for sit såkaldte økonomiske opsving med konkurser, arbejdsløshed, mere hjemløse, mere sultne og den største statsgæld kendt for menneskeheden? Hvis han havde fortalt vælgerne i 1980 denne sandhed, ville amerikanske vælgere have underskrevet lånebeviset til ham på valgdagen? Selvfølgelig ikke! Det var et valg, der blev vundet under falske forudsætninger. Det blev vundet med røg og spejle og illusioner. Det er den slags genopretning, vi også har nu.

Og hvad med udenrigspolitikken?

De sagde, at de ville gøre os og hele verden mere sikre. De siger, at de har.

Ved at oprette det største forsvarsbudget i historien er et, som selv de nu indrømmer, overdreven. Ved at eskalere til en vanvittig atomvåbenkapløb. Ved brændende retorik. Ved at nægte at diskutere fred med vores fjender. Ved tabet af 279 unge amerikanere i Libanon i jagten på en plan og en politik, som ingen kan finde eller beskrive.

Vi giver penge til latinamerikanske regeringer, der myrder nonner, og lyver derefter om det.

Vi har været mindre end nidkære i vores støtte til vores eneste rigtige ven, forekommer det mig i Mellemøsten, det eneste demokrati der, vores kød og blod allieret, staten Israel.

Vores politik, vores udenrigspolitik, driver uden egentlig retning, bortset fra en hysterisk forpligtelse til et våbenkapløb, der ingen steder fører, hvis vi er heldige. Og hvis vi ikke er det, kan det føre os til konkurs eller krig.

Selvfølgelig skal vi have et stærkt forsvar!

Demokraterne er naturligvis et stærkt forsvar, selvfølgelig mener demokraterne, at der er tidspunkter, hvor vi skal stå og kæmpe. Og det har vi. Tusinder af os har betalt for friheden med vores liv. Men altid, når dette land har været bedst, var vores formål klare.

Nu er de ikke. Nu er vores allierede lige så forvirrede som vores fjender.

Nu har vi ingen reel forpligtelse over for vores venner eller vores idealer, ikke til menneskerettigheder, ikke til nægtere, ikke til Sakharov, ikke til biskop Tutu og de andre, der kæmper for frihed i Sydafrika.

Vi har i de sidste par år brugt mere, end vi har råd til. Vi har slået vores kister og holdt dristige taler. Men vi mistede 279 unge amerikanere i Libanon, og vi bor bag sandposer i Washington.

Hvordan kan nogen sige, at vi er sikrere, stærkere eller bedre?

Det er den republikanske rekord.

At dens katastrofale kvalitet ikke er mere fuldstændigt forstået af det amerikanske folk, kan jeg kun tilskrive præsidentens elskværdighed og manglende evne til at adskille sælgeren fra produktet. 'Gør sagen til Amerika'

Og nu er det op til os, nu er det op til dig og mig at gøre sagen til Amerika.

Og for at minde amerikanerne om, at hvis de ikke er tilfredse med alt det, præsidenten har gjort indtil nu, bør de overveje, hvor meget værre det vil være, hvis han bliver overladt til sine radikale tilbøjeligheder i yderligere fire år uhæmmet - uhæmmet!

Hvis juli bringer Anne Gorsuch Burford tilbage, hvad kan vi så forvente af december? Hvor ville yderligere fire år føre os hen? Hvor ville fire år mere føre os hen? Hvor meget større vil underskuddet være?

Hvor meget dybere er nedskæringerne i programmerne for den kæmpende middelklasse og de fattige for at begrænse dette underskud? Hvor høje bliver renterne? Hvor meget mere sur regn dræber vores skove og forurenser vores søer?

Og mine damer og herrer, tænk venligst på dette - nationen skal tænke på dette - hvilken slags højesteret vil vi have? Vi må spørge os selv, hvilken slags domstol og land der vil blive formet af manden, der tror på at få regeringen til at mandat folks religion og moral.

Manden, der mener, at træer forurener miljøet, manden, der mener, at lovene mod forskelsbehandling af mennesker går for langt. En mand, der truer social sikring og Medicaid og hjælp til handicappede.

Hvor højt vil vi stable missilerne?
Hvor meget dybere vil kløften være mellem os og vores fjender?

Og mine damer og herrer, vil fire år mere gøre den amerikanske befolknings ånd mere ond?

Dette valg måler rekorden i de sidste fire år. Men mere end det vil det besvare spørgsmålet om, hvilken slags mennesker vi vil være.

Vi demokrater har stadig en drøm. Vi tror stadig på denne nations fremtid. En 'Credo' for Demokraterne

Og dette er vores svar på spørgsmålet, dette er vores credo:

Vi tror kun på den regering, vi har brug for, men vi insisterer på al den regering, vi har brug for.

Vi tror på en regering, der er præget af retfærdighed og rimelighed, en rimelighed, der går ud over etiketter, som ikke forvrænger eller lover at gøre ting, som vi ved, at vi ikke kan.

Vi tror på en regering, der er stærk nok til at bruge ordene '' kærlighed '' og '' medfølelse '' og smart nok til at omdanne vores ædleste ambitioner til praktiske realiteter.

Vi tror på at opmuntre de talentfulde, men vi mener, at selvom de stærkeste overlevelse kan være en god arbejdsbeskrivelse af udviklingsprocessen, bør en regering af mennesker løfte sig selv til en højere orden. Vores regering burde være i stand til at stige til det niveau, hvor den kan udfylde de huller, der er tilfældige eller ved en visdom, vi ikke forstår.

Vi vil hellere have love skrevet af protektor for denne store by, manden kaldet '' verdens mest oprigtige demokrat '', Sankt Frans af Assisi, end love skrevet af Darwin.

Vi mener som demokrater, at et så velsignet samfund som vores, det mest velhavende demokrati i verdens historie, et, der kan bruge billioner på ødelæggelsesinstrumenter, burde kunne hjælpe middelklassen i sin kamp, ​​burde være

i stand til at finde arbejde til alle, der kan gøre det, plads ved bordet, husly for hjemløse, pleje af ældre og svage og håb for de fattige. 'Fred er bedre end krig'

Og vi forkynder så højt, vi kan, den fuldstændige sindssyge i atomspredning og behovet for en atomfrysning, om ikke andet for at bekræfte den simple sandhed, at fred er bedre end krig, fordi livet er bedre end døden.

Vi tror på fast, men fair lov og orden, Vi tror stolt på fagbevægelsen. Vi tror på privatliv for mennesker, åbenhed fra regeringen, vi tror på borgerrettigheder, og vi tror på menneskerettigheder.

Vi tror på en enkelt grundlæggende idé, der beskriver bedre end de fleste lærebøger og enhver tale, som jeg kunne skrive, hvad en ordentlig regering burde være. Ideen om familien. Gensidighed. Deling af fordele og byrder til alles bedste. Følelse af hinandens smerte. At dele hinandens velsignelser. Rimeligt, ærligt, rimeligt, uden respekt for race, eller køn, eller geografi eller politisk tilhørsforhold. Vi mener, at vi skal være USAs familie, der erkender, at vi i sagens kerne er bundet til hinanden, at problemerne med en pensioneret skolelærer i Duluth er vores problemer. At barnets fremtid i Buffalo er vores fremtid. At en handicappet mands kamp i Boston for at overleve og leve anstændigt er vores kamp. At sulten efter en kvinde i Little Rock, er vores sult. At manglen på noget sted at give, hvad vi med rimelighed kunne, for at undgå smerte, er vores fiasko.

I 50 år skabte vi demokrater en bedre fremtid for vores børn ved at bruge traditionelle demokratiske principper som et fast fyrtårn, hvilket gav os retning og formål, men konstant fornyede og tilpassede os nye realiteter: Roosevelts alfabetprogrammer Trumans NATO og GI Bill of Rights Kennedys intelligente skatteincitamenter og Alliance For Progress Johnsons borgerrettigheder Carters menneskerettigheder og den næsten mirakuløse Camp David -fredsaftale.

Demokraterne gjorde det, og demokraterne kan gøre det igen.

Vi kan bygge en fremtid, der omhandler vores underskud.

Husk dette, at 50 års fremgang under vores principper aldrig kostede os, hvad de sidste fire års stagnation har haft. Og vi kan håndtere underskuddet intelligent ved fælles ofre, med alle dele af nationens familie, der bidrager, opbygger partnerskaber med den private sektor, giver et forsvarligt forsvar uden at fratage os selv, hvad vi har brug for for at fodre vores børn og passe vores folk.

Vi kan få en fremtid, der sørger for alle nutidens unge ved at gifte sig med sund fornuft og medfølelse.

Vi ved, at vi kan, for vi gjorde det i næsten 50 år før 1980. 'Vi kan gøre det igen'

Og vi kan gøre det igen. Hvis vi ikke glemmer det. Hvis vi ikke glemmer, at hele denne nation har tjent på disse progressive principper. At de hjalp med at løfte generationer til middelklassen og højere: at de gav os en chance for at arbejde, gå på college, stifte familie, eje et hus, være trygge i vores alderdom og før det at nå højder, som vores egne forældre ikke havde turdet drømme om.

Den kamp for at leve med værdighed er den virkelige historie om den skinnende by. Og det er en historie, mine damer og herrer, som jeg ikke læste i en bog eller lærte i et klasseværelse. Jeg så det, og levede det. Ligesom mange af jer.

Jeg så en lille mand med tykke hård hud på begge hænder arbejde 15 og 16 timer om dagen. Jeg så ham engang bogstaveligt talt bløde fra bunden af ​​hans fødder, en mand der kom hit uuddannet, alene, ude af stand til at tale sproget, som lærte mig alt hvad jeg havde brug for at vide om tro og hårdt arbejde ved den enkle veltalenhed i hans eksempel. Jeg lærte om vores form for demokrati af min far. Jeg lærte om vores forpligtelse over for hinanden fra ham og fra min mor. De bad kun om en

mulighed for at arbejde og gøre verden bedre for deres børn, og de bad om at blive beskyttet i de øjeblikke, hvor de ikke ville være i stand til at beskytte sig selv. Denne nation og denne nations regering gjorde det for dem.

Og at de var i stand til at opbygge en familie og leve i værdighed og se et af deres børn gå bag deres lille købmand i South Jamaica på den anden side af sporene, hvor han blev født, for at indtage det højeste sæde i den største stat i den største nation i den eneste verden, vi kender, er en utrolig smuk hyldest til den demokratiske proces.

Og mine damer og herrer, den 20. januar 1985 sker det igen. Kun i en meget, meget større skala. Vi får en ny præsident i USA, en demokrat, der ikke er født af kongers blod, men af ​​pionerer og immigranters blod.

Vi får Amerikas første kvindelige vicepræsident, immigrantens barn, og hun åbner med et storslået slag en helt ny grænse for USA.

Det vil ske. Det vil ske, hvis vi får det til at ske, hvis du og jeg får det til at ske.

Og jeg beder jer nu, mine damer og herrer, brødre og søstre, til glæde for os alle, for kærligheden til denne store nation, til den amerikanske familie, til kærligheden til Gud. Få denne nation til at huske, hvordan futures er bygget. Tak, og Gud velsigne dig.


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Mario Matthew Cuomo, 1932-2015

Long before Bill de Blasio summoned the ghost of Charles Dickens, long before the phrase “income inequality” became part of the political lexicon, long before shimmering castles rose in the Midtown sky in celebration of a new gilded age, there was Mario Matthew Cuomo, son of immigrants, child of the New Deal, keeper of his party’s conscience.

Cuomo became a political sensation through a medium thought to belong to another era: words. Beautiful, poetic, meaningful words, spoken in a strong, clear voice, with a cadence that turned even a clumsy phrase into a baroque masterpiece.

He was reared in a household of Italian speakers English, his greatest companion and most formidable ally, was his second language.

It was hardly a wonder that embedded in all those beautiful words there was a palpable love of American possibilities. Where else, he might have asked, could an Italian-speaking kid from Queens become not just an orator but a philosopher whose texts will be read for as long as American political thought matters?

Cuomo was a relative political unknown in 1984, when the Democratic Party’s presidential nominee, Walter Mondale, asked him to deliver the keynote address at the party’s national convention in San Francisco. Mondale had heard something about Cuomo’s use of the English language, heard something about a speech he gave in Albany on January 1, 1983, after taking the oath of office as governor of New York. On that first of 4,380 days he would spend in residence on Eagle Street, Mario Cuomo spoke of “the idea of the family, mutuality, the sharing of benefits and burdens for the good of all.”

“There is an ideal essential to our success,” he said, “and no family that favored its strong children or that in the name of even-handedness failed to help its vulnerable ones would be worthy of the name.”

There are people with us still who vividly remember that speech not only because of the words and not only because of the power of the man who spoke them, but also because nobody else in public life spoke like that. Not in 1983.

The age belonged to Ronald Reagan, the onetime New Dealer who preached the gospel of self-reliance and regaled the nation with anecdotes about individuals who made themselves rich, or, if already rich, then even richer. The age belonged to Reagan’s ideological sidekick, Margaret Thatcher, who said there was no such thing as society.

And here was this man from Queens, Mario Cuomo, all but saying that these powerful people were peddling lies.

“It has become popular is some quarters,” he said, “to argue that the principal function of government is to make instruments of war and to clear obstacles away from the strong. It is said that the rest will happen automatically. The cream will rise to the top. … Survival of the fittest may be a good working description of the process of evolution, but a government of humans should elevate itself to a higher order, one which tries to fill the cruel gaps left by chance, and by a wisdom we don’t fully understand.”

From his listening post in Washington, New York Times columnist James (Scotty) Reston announced that “the governor may be on to something.”

Hoping that Reston was right, Mondale arranged for Mario Cuomo to face the nation on a July evening in the Moscone Center in San Francisco.

Today, at a time when the president of the United States bears the name Barack Hussein Obama, it is quite impossible to appreciate the impact of a man named Mario Cuomo speaking on behalf of a presidential candidate to a national television audience numbering in the tens of millions. Covering that convention, I recall a man from the South—Texas, I seem to remember—reminding us Northerners that all those vowels in the governor’s name might not sit well with his America. He at least pronounced Cuomo’s last name correctly. There were many in that convention hall in San Francisco who seemed to believe the governor was related to the old crooner, Perry Como.

He came to the podium, waved, and then excused himself from the usual preliminaries, “the stories and the poetry and the temptation to deal in nice but vague rhetoric.”

Instead, he offered a polite but passionate assault on Ronald Reagan’s America, his shining city on a hill.

“A shining city is perhaps all the president sees from the portico of the White House and the veranda of his ranch, where everyone seems to be doing well,” Cuomo said. “But there's another city there's another part to the shining city the part where some people can't pay their mortgages, and most young people can't afford one where students can't afford the education they need, and middle-class parents watch the dreams they hold for their children evaporate. … There is despair, Mr. President, in the faces that you don't see, in the places that you don't visit in your shining city. In fact, Mr. President, this is a nation—Mr. President you ought to know that this nation is more a ‘Tale of Two Cities’ than it is just a ‘Shining City on a Hill.’"

Mario Cuomo said these things in 1984, to a nation that was in thrall to Reagan and his narrative of an America reborn and resurgent. Cuomo continued with phrase upon devastating phrase, asking the president to consider those left behind, pleading with the American people to see the poor and the disenfranchised not as failures and losers, but fellow citizens of the same city, of one city and a single nation.

To be in that hall on that night 30 years ago was to be in Chicago in 1896, when a former congressman named William Jennings Bryan called on his fellow Democrats to hear the voices of those left behind, to prevent their crucifixion on a cross of gold. He was nominated for president on the spot.

The rules of politics had changed since Bryan’s time Mario Cuomo could be no more than a surrogate for the party’s duly anointed candidate, Mondale. But the delegates left San Francisco knowing they had nominated the wrong man, a fine man no doubt, but a man who could not stir the soul.

Mario Cuomo would never run for president, even though the party saw him as a savior after Mondale lost 49 states—all but Minnesota—that year.

Cuomo chose not to run in 1988, and the Democratic consolation prize was Michael Dukakis. He chose not to run in 1992, when a plane was waiting to take him from Albany to New Hampshire to file late-minute paperwork for the state’s primary. Cuomo said he could not run for president because he had to figure out the state’s budget, a curious explanation he would reiterate in years to come, no matter how bizarre it seemed.

For Democrats who had never forgotten the San Francisco speech, for hundreds of patronage holders and reporters in Albany, Cuomo’s announcement, made 90 minutes before a 5 o’clock filing deadline, was one of the great could-have-beens in modern political history.

William Faulkner once said that for young white men in the South, it is always a few minutes before two o’clock on July 3, 1863 in Gettysburg, and General George Pickett and his men “are in position behind the rail fence … waiting for Longstreet to give the word.”

For those who worked for or who covered Mario Cuomo a generation ago, there are times when it once again is 3:15 p.m. on Friday, December 20, 1991. A small plane is warming up, bound for Manchester, N.H., and Governor Cuomo’s office has just scheduled a press conference on the second floor of the state Capitol.

Mario Cuomo’s hold on the imagination of his fellow Democrats was all about soaring rhetoric and political poetry. But it was the governor himself who noted that politicians campaign in poetry but govern in prose. And as a governor, Cuomo’s record was more prosaic than many Democrats and journalists from outside the state realized.

He built more prisons than any other governor in the state’s history. He and his legislative colleagues couldn’t deliver a budget on time. He cut taxes but didn’t raise the state’s minimum wage until 1990, after he had been governor for seven years. By 1994, as he tried in vain to win a fourth term, he found himself talking about improvements made to Thruway rest stops during his watch. Hardly the stuff of poetry.

His principled stand against capital punishment—which he shared with his predecessor, Hugh Carey—won him accolades from liberals tired of Democratic compromises and cave-ins. His nuanced defense of abortion rights, brilliantly argued in a speech at the University of Notre Dame in 1985, earned him the support of powerful activists who policed the party’s pro-choice orthodoxy.

Combined with his wonderful speeches, those two positions earned Cuomo a reputation as the Democratic Party’s leading liberal spokesman at a time when liberalism was banished to the political wilderness. But it was, in many ways, an illusion.

If Bill Clinton is credited with the political gymnastic known as triangulation, Mario Cuomo deserves recognition for embracing a form of political bifurcation even if party diehards insisted that he was the true liberal they had been yearning for since Adlai Stevenson led them to principled disaster twice in the 1950s.

Cuomo disdained the term “liberal,” preferring to describe himself as a pragmatic progressive or a progressive pragmatist. The rhetorical sleight of hand was evident even in some of the speeches that sent liberal heart aflutter.

“We believe in only the government we need, but we insist on all the government we need,” Cuomo said in his San Francisco speech.

On other occasions, he noted that government required both a head and a heart, of the need to provide jobs as well as justice. Conservative. Liberal. Pragmatic progressive. Progressive pragmatist.

This careful attention to linguistic detail could be exasperating for those looking for simple, straightforward answers. People like, well, reporters.

Along with others who covered Cuomo far more closely, I knew that the right question phrased the wrong way would lead only to a Cuomo verbal assault and a non-answer. He’d attack the question. He’d question the attacker. I can hear his voice now:

Governor, other Democrats are saying you should raise the minimum wage.

I can’t tell you that, governor.

How can I answer the question if I don’t know who is saying these things? Why do you allow people to hide behind a veil of anonymity? Is this the way you always operate? The issue here is not the minimum wage but the people who are making statements without putting their names to those statements. That’s the real issue here.

This imaginary conversation was pretty close to daily reality for Albany’s press corps, although visiting journalists from the Beltway generally were spared the full Mario treatment. That accounted for the disparate narratives: Mario the Poet versus Mario the Lawyer.

In 1994, as he sought to become only the second New York governor to win a fourth four-year term (the first one was Nelson Rockefeller Al Smith won four two-year terms), Cuomo published a collection of his speeches, reminding so many of his supporters why they adored him. The volume was called More Than Words.

It is a suitable epitaph for a politician who used words to inspire, to probe, to critique, and to provoke. Yes, he will be remembered best as an orator, but there was something more about him, something more than the pretty pictures he painted with the English language.

He was unafraid to challenge a comforting narrative with impertinent questions at a time when others preferred to simply go along and get along. Yes, that required more than words. That required ideas, that required courage, and that required intelligence.

Mario Cuomo had all three.

CORRECTION: The original version of this article stated incorrectly that Walter Mondale won Massachusetts in 1984, rather than Minnesota.


Mario Cuomo Addresses the 1984 Democratic Convention

Ronald Reagan was reelected as President in 1984 in an unexciting landslide over Walter Mondale, who had been Jimmy Carter's vice president. Mondale's only victory was in his home state, Minnesota.

Mondale had defeated the Reverend Jesse Jackson, former Colorado Senator Gary Hart, and Ohio Senator John Glenn in the Democratic primaries. When they met in July, Democrats wanted to show they were united behind Mondale in his uphill battle to unseat Reagan. Two New Yorkers played key roles at that convention in San Francisco: Representative Geraldine Ferraro, who became the first-ever female vice presidential candidate and Governor Mario Cuomo, who delivered a passionate keynote address on Democratic dreams and Reagan failures. It was a speech that rocketed Cuomo's political career to the national level.

[Note: In a convention's "keynote address," a party leader delivers a lengthy speech about the overall goals of the party, pledges the convention's support for its Presidential candidate, and outlines strategies to defeat the opposition in the November election.]

From the keynote address delivered by New York Governor Mario Cuomo at the 1984 Democratic Convention in San Francisco:

Ten days ago, President Reagan admitted that although some people in this country seemed to be doing well nowadays, others were unhappy, and even worried, about themselves, their families and their futures.

The President said he didn't understand that fear. He said, "Why, this country is a shining city on a hill."

A shining city is perhaps all the President sees from the portico of the White House and the verandah of his ranch, where everyone seems to be doing well.

But there's another part of the city, the part where some people can't pay their mortgages and most young people can't afford one, where students can't afford the education they need and middle-class parents watch the dreams they hold for their children evaporate.

In this part of the city there are more poor than ever, more families in trouble. More and more people who need help but can't find it.

There are ghettos where thousands of young people, without an education or a job, give their lives away to drug dealers every day.

There is despair, Mr. President, in faces you never see, in the places you never visit in your shining city.

Maybe if you visited more places, Mr. President, you'd understand.

Maybe if you went to Appalachia where some people still live in sheds and to Lackawanna where thousands of unemployed steel workers wonder why we subsidized foreign steel while we surrender their dignity to unemployment and to welfare checks maybe if you stepped into a shelter in Chicago and talked with some of the homeless there maybe, Mr. President, if you asked a woman who'd been denied the help she needs to feed her children because you say we need the money to give a tax break to a millionaire or to build a missile we can't even afford to use &mdash maybe then you'd understand.

The difference between Democrats and Republicans has always been measured in courage and confidence. The Republicans believe the wagon train will not make it to the frontier unless some of our old, some of our young, and some of our weak are left behind by the side of the trail.

We Democrats believe that we can make it all the way with the whole family intact.

The President has asked us to judge him on whether or not he's fulfilled the promises he made four years ago. I accept that. Just consider what he said and what he's done.

Inflation is down since 1980 . . . reduced the old-fashioned way, with a recession, the worst since 1932. More than 55,000 bankruptcies. Two years of massive unemployment. Two hundred thousand farmers and ranchers forced off the land. More homeless than at any time since the Great Depression. More hungry, more poor, and a nearly $200 billion deficit . . . a mortgage on our children's futures that can only be paid in pain and that could eventually bring this nation to its knees. . . .

Where would another four years take us? How much larger will the deficit be? How high will we pile the missiles? Will we make meaner the spirit of our people?

We Democrats still have a dream. We still believe in this nation's future.

It's a story I didn't read in a book, or learn in a classroom. I saw it, and lived it. Like many of you.

I watched a small man with thick calluses on both hands work 15 and 16 hours a day. I saw him once literally bleed from the bottoms of his feet, a man who came here uneducated, alone, unable to speak the language, who taught me all I needed to know about faith and hard work by the simple eloquence of his example. I learned about our kind of democracy from my father. I learned about our obligation to each other from him and from my mother. They asked only for a chance to work and to make the world better for their children and to be protected in those moments when they would not be able to protect themselves. This nation and its government did that for them.

And that they were able to build a family and live in dignity and see one of their children go from behind their little grocery store to occupy the highest seat in the greatest state of the greatest nation in the only world we know, is an ineffably beautiful tribute to the democratic process. . . .

I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters &mdash for the good of all of us, for the love of this great nation, for the family of America, for the love of God. Please make this nation remember how futures are built.


Mario Cuomo's legendary speech at the 1984 Democratic National Convention

Mario Cuomo, the former governor of New York who died Thursday at the age of 82, was perhaps best known for a 1984 speech in which he criticized then-President Ronald Reagan for ignoring the plight of lower and middle class Americans. [seealso url="http://mashable.com/2013/07/04/us-presidents-fun-facts/"] "We must make the American people hear our 'Tale of Two Cities,'" then-New York Gov. Cuomo told the crowd of delegates at the 1984 Democratic National Convention in San Francisco. "We must convince them that we don't have to settle for two cities, that we can have one city, indivisible, shining for all of its people." The address made Cuomo a household name in America at the time, and left Democrats hoping he would run for president. Ultimately, Cuomo decided against a run, choosing instead to focus on budgetary issues closer to home in New York. In a statement issued Thursday, President Barack Obama called Cuomo a "determined champion of progressive values, and an unflinching voice for tolerance, inclusiveness, fairness, dignity and opportunity," following the former New York governor's passing. "His own story taught him that as Americans, we are bound together as one people," Obama said, "and our country's success rests on the success of all of us, not just a fortunate few." It was a theme Cuomo introduced at that famous 1984 address, which many Democrats still try to maintain today. Read the full speech transcript, below:

How S.F. speech put Mario Cuomo on the national map

1 of 5 N.Y. Gov. Mario Cuomo acknowledges the delegates after his rousing keynote speech slamming President Ronald Reagan at the Democratic National Convention in San Francisco in 1984. Associated Press Show More Show Less

2 of 5 Marie La Guardia, widow of N.Y. Mayor Fiorello La Guardia, places one of his trademark hats on Mario Cuomo in 1977. JACK MANNING / New York Times Show More Show Less

4 of 5 FILE — Andrew Cuomo, right, with Mario Cuomo, during his father’s first campaign for governor of New York, Sept. 24, 1982. Just weeks before his own re-election is before voters, Gov. Andrew Cuomo will release a memoir, â€?“All Things Possible: Setbacks and Success in Politics and Life,†in which he discusses his complicated relationship with his father. (William E. Sauro/The New York Times) WILLIAM E. SAURO / New York Times Show More Show Less

Mario Cuomo, who died New Year&rsquos Day in his Manhattan home at the age of 82, may have been the quintessential New Yorker, but it was a 1984 summer day in San Francisco that made him an icon for liberal Democrats.

Cuomo was the little-known governor of New York, just into his first term, when he stepped up to the podium at the Moscone Convention Center on July 16 to give the keynote address to the Democratic National Convention that would send former Vice President Walter Mondale up against President Ronald Reagan.

Eight minutes later, Cuomo was a national figure, an orator who was unafraid to slam Reagan and his conservative principles and hold fast to the Democratic Party&rsquos liberal ideals, which were becoming less and less part of the national political mainstream.

&ldquoHe was the star of the show,&rdquo recalled Sen. Dianne Feinstein, who as San Francisco&rsquos mayor had led the effort to bring the convention to the city. &ldquoHis 'Tale of Two Cities&rsquo (speech) charted the course of the Democratic Party for the next generation.&rdquo

The talk was a slap at Reagan&rsquos favorite description of the country as &ldquoa shining city on the hill.&rdquo

There was more to that city than what the president saw from &ldquothe portico of the White House or the veranda of his ranch,&rdquo Cuomo said. &ldquoThere is despair, Mr. President, in the faces that you don&rsquot see, in the places that you don&rsquot visit in your shining city.&rdquo

Reagan and the Republicans believed &ldquothe strong . will inherit the land,&rdquo Cuomo said. But Democrats believed the &ldquostruggle to live with dignity is the real story of the shining city. And it&rsquos a story . that I didn&rsquot read in a book, or learn in a classroom. I saw it and lived it, like many of you.&rdquo

The speech ignited the convention delegates, who said later that it put into words the concerns Democrats had about the conservative wave that had lifted Reagan to office.

'More relevant today&rsquo

&ldquoIt was a magnificent speech that laid out exactly what was happening in the country,&rdquo said Berkeley Mayor Tom Bates, who heard Cuomo&rsquos speech as a member of the California convention delegation. &ldquoIt was relevant then, and it&rsquos even more relevant today.&rdquo

The address, widely viewed as one of the country&rsquos all-time best examples of political oratory, did far more for Cuomo than it did for Mondale. Mondale lost a 49-state landslide to Reagan four months later and vanished from politics, while Cuomo stayed in the national spotlight for years.

It was a mixed blessing for a man whose heart always remained in his native New York.

&ldquoIt was only in New York, he would say with a mixture of pride and humility, that the son of largely unschooled Italian immigrants . could rise to become the state&rsquos chief executive,&rdquo Rex Smith, who covered Cuomo from 1987 to 1991, wrote in a remembrance for the paper he now edits, the Albany Times Union.

&ldquoAnd it was in New York that a man with an odd name, an unadulterated accent and a political philosophy at odds with the trend of the times could so dominate the political scene,&rdquo Smith wrote.

Cuomo&rsquos political life changed after the San Francisco speech, giving him a national profile and image that weren&rsquot always a comfortable fit.

In 1988, he quashed a &ldquoDraft Cuomo&rdquo presidential effort and in 1992, when he was the likely Democratic front-runner, he stayed out of the New Hampshire primary, saying his first obligation was to get a budget signed back home.


The legacy of Mario Cuomo’s 1984 'Tale of Two Cities' speech

The Democrats who gathered in San Francisco for the 1984 convention had little inkling that they were headed for a 49-state loss in the November election. But it was clearly a tired, dispiriting moment for American liberalism. Their coming shellacking — when paired with George McGovern’s equally large defeat only 12 years earlier — represented a popular rejection of Democrats at a scale that dwarfed even what the Republicans experienced when facing off against Franklin Roosevelt. For more than a decade, the party’s leaders had been decent but uninspiring men: Jimmy Carter came from a place called Plains their current nominee, Walter Mondale, had earned the campaign trail nickname of “Norwegian Wood.”

Then the relatively little-known new governor of New York stepped to the podium. Mario Cuomo had the shoulders of the center fielder he once had been and a face like a catcher’s mitt. There was his voice, inflections, no-nonsense swagger: For blue-collar ethnic whites — the very Reagan Democrats who had felt abandoned by their party in the '70s and then returned the favor in 1980 — here was one of their own. While the press and politicos would thrill to the speech’s metaphors around the “Tale of Two Cities” and wagon trains heading west, Cuomo himself would note years later that the part of the speech that ordinary people mentioned to him more than any other by far was the moving description of his family’s immigrant experience: the “small man with thick calluses on both hands” from working 16 hours a day, who watched his son go from “their little grocery store on the other side of the tracks in South Jamaica where he was born, to occupy the highest seat in the greatest state of the greatest nation” in the world.

A hundred years from now, if there is one speech that people will study and remember from a Democratic politician in the last quarter of the 20th century, it will rightly be Cuomo’s 1984 address. It is hard to overstate the impact it had on a generation of the party’s speechwriters, strategists and policy thinkers. You can see it clearly in New York Mayor Bill de Blasio’s campaign against the “two New Yorks” and John Edwards’ description of the “two Americas.” After learning of Cuomo’s passing, Jon Favreau — President Obama’s chief speechwriter for most of his presidency — commented on Twitter that the “1984 Convention speech is in my top five of all time.” The same, it is safe to say, goes for almost every Democratic politician and speechwriter. And, aside from its rhetoric, the formative power of Cuomo’s call silently shapes debates over the party’s strategy and future to this day.

Personally, I recall sitting in a cinderblock speechwriters’ boiler room under the convention stage on the night of another legendary convention keynote, 20 years after Cuomo’s speech. There is probably no group more inured to the charms of, and less likely moved by, politicians’ hoary oratory than the handful of speechwriters who write and edit the seemingly endless of stream of remarks that make up the many hours of political conventions that even C-SPAN is tempted to ignore.

On the Tuesday night of the 2004 Democratic convention in Boston, the networks were not bothering to carry any of the proceedings. Our tired group could not be troubled to join in the convention revelry and even mostly ignored the live feed of the speeches on our television. But a few minutes into Illinois state Sen. Barack Obama’s address, we perked up, looked at one another and, as one, got up and raced through the backstage tunnels of the FleetCenter to make our way to the jammed convention floor. And, as he spoke, all I remember thinking was, “I wasn’t around for Cuomo in 1984, but I am here for this.”

Given that, it pains me to say, especially now with his passing, that Cuomo’s address and its enlarged memory have contributed to the troubles of today’s Democratic party. Rather than a clarion call, it should be seen as a siren’s song — luring progressives into a course which crashes them against the rocks.

If there is a central problem for today’s Democrats it is the idea that the right “messaging,” a collection of poll-tested ideas with a mostly symbolic impact, and passionately inveighing against political foes and economic conditions can substitute for a real agenda of action that has any chance of meaningfully reversing decades of a diminishing opportunities for Americans.

So consider this: in Cuomo’s 4,308-word speech there are long passages denouncing the Reagan record and recitations of the achievements of every Democratic presidency since FDR, but there is not a single, solitary statement about what Democrats would do if elected. Don’t believe me? Look it up yourself.

Indeed, the central idea of the speech was that Democrats would succeed only if they reminded themselves and the rest of America of what the party had done before. “We can do it again if we do not forget,” he said. “Please, make this nation remember how futures are built,” were the address’s closing words.

It was not the first time that a convention speaker had captured the party’s soul with a vision of an America split between the ascendant and the left behind. Eighty-eight years before Cuomo, William Jennings Bryan swept to the leadership of the Democratic party with his “Cross of Gold” speech. Instead of a “Tale of Two Cities,” he divided America into “our farms” and “your cities.” And, like Cuomo, his approach was ultimately backward-looking, a call to restore what once had been with no sense of what might yet be.

The day after Bryan’s 1896 speech, Illinois’ reform governor John Peter Altgeld happened to meet famed lawyer Clarence Darrow. Darrow had been deeply moved by Bryan’s speech. Altgeld had as well, at first. Now he was not so sure. “What did he say, anyhow?” he asked Darrow.

After Cuomo’s triumph at the 1984 convention, Arkansas’ young governor Bill Clinton ran into his counterpart from Colorado, Dick Lamm. “What did you think of Cuomo’s speech?” Clinton asked.

“Terrific,” Lamm replied. “It galvanized the crowd.”

“C’mon,” Clinton said. “What did it really say about the issues we’re trying to raise?”

“Nothing,” admitted Lamm. “Cuomo. Jesse Jackson. Teddy Kennedy. Same speech,” Lamm would say later. “Passionate statements of what used to be. We weren’t ready to face the issues of the future … so we celebrated the past.”

Speaking at San Francisco’s Moscone Center , Cuomo had addressed himself to the “200,000 farmers and ranchers forced off the land” and the “thousands of unemployed steel workers” in Lackawanna. But there was no hint of awareness that, just a few miles from where he stood, Apple was churning out its new Macintosh — the first modern personal computer — and a new economy was beginning to be born.

By no means should Cuomo have ignored the farmers and steelworkers and their plight. However, the path to addressing their challenges lay in looking forward — not back. Bryan’s populism was a political and policy dead end, and it fell to progressives like Woodrow Wilson to update government for an industrial age and its rising corporate power. So too will today’s Democrats find success only if they can honestly and convincingly stand as future-oriented, problem-solving progressives with ideas that match the scale of America's challenges.

“You campaign in poetry you govern in prose,” Cuomo famously said. But the latter follows the former, and Democrats need a new, more modern verse. The lengthened shadow of Cuomo’s address has contributed to inhibiting the growth of a new, unifying, positive appeal that puts progress back at the heart of progressivism. With the passing of its inspiring and brilliant author, perhaps it is also finally time to let go of the hold Cuomo's “Tale of Two Cities” speech has had on the Democratic imagination.


Mario Cuomo, 1932-2015

Few figures in American political life were as stirring as Mario Cuomo, the three-term governor of New York and father of its current executive, who died Thursday at 82.

That we seldom agreed with him does not detract from this record.

We at The Post owe him a particular debt of gratitude. In 1993, with this paper (then under different ownership) tottering on the brink of fiscal collapse, Mario Cuomo stepped in and heroically performed a one-man rescue mission.

It’s no understatement to say that, without Mario Cuomo, The Post likely would not have survived. He acted the way he did because he was convinced it was in New York’s best interests, not necessarily his own.

In his politics, Cuomo was a passionate and forceful proponent of the classic Democratic liberalism championed by two of his heroes, Franklin Roosevelt and Adlai Stevenson. Unlike many of today’s politicians, he never shied away from robust debates with his foes. And his oratorical gifts never failed to elevate both the content and the tone of public discourse.

Andrew Cuomo stands with his father Mario Cuomo at the New York State Democratic convention after Andrew Cuomo accepted the party’s nomination as their candidate for governor in 2010. Reuters

In the end, though, his advocacy served a political and governing philosophy whose most notable successes, in our view, were strictly rhetorical.

It’s telling that in endorsing his 1994 opponent, George Pataki (we’d supported Cuomo in his previous two races), The Post cited many of the same problems that still engage our concern: a crushing tax load inhospitable business climate failing schools and a growing Medicaid burden.

Yet the issue that ultimately cost Cuomo his governorship was crime, and his opposition to capital punishment.

His position on the latter spoke to contrasts. On abortion, despite what he said was his personal opposition, he embraced and advocated a very pro-choice political position. That in turn provoked a very public clash with then-Cardinal John O’Connor that put him in the national spotlight.

On capital punishment, by contrast, he asserted his private moral beliefs and vetoed any attempt to restore the death penalty, calling it “a stain on our conscience.” That won him hosannas from the left as a moral beacon who represented the triumph of political virtue — and the enmity of New Yorkers terrified by the ever-increasing violence they saw around them.

Not surprisingly, Mario Cuomo consistently ran well in presidential polls after his memorable “Tale of Two Cities” keynote at the 1984 Democratic national convention. And by accounts, he wanted the job.

But while he often flirted with running — Cuomo’s indecision won him the nickname “Hamlet on the Hudson” — he never did take the plunge, disdaining the long, draining process to capture the White House.

“Too many would-be leaders look to divide rather than unite,” he said, “to build themselves up by tearing others down.”

Not that Cuomo was in all respects a candidate for sainthood. As his son joked back in 2002, “Mario Cuomo showed me the benefits of being an irritable, thin-skinned and dismissive person. He showed me that arrogance ultimately works.”

In the end, Cuomo’s 12 years in Albany will be remembered more for what he said than for what he accomplished. By the end, he was presiding over a disappointing status quo that refused to move forward.

Still, he was a giant of the political scene who loved his family, loved his state and loved the cut-and-thrust of old-fashioned politics. Mario Cuomo, RIP.


Se videoen: A look back at Mario Cuomos most memorable speech


Kommentarer:

  1. Ladislav

    Du kan se på det uendeligt.

  2. Abdul-Rahman

    Shpashib stor

  3. Kyan

    Jeg bekræfter. Og jeg har mødt det. Lad os diskutere dette spørgsmål.

  4. Miruts

    Så her er historien!



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