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Optimism, some believe, is a peculiarly American virtue. That we, by dint of belief in the face of nearly any calamity, find some reason to be optimistic. I used to think, when I was first lady, that the complaint about Americans having no sense of their history may have been misplaced. Yes, of course we're doomed to create it but it also gives grounds for optimism if you have no idea what happened before. I remember so many times having the obligatory first lady tea with the spouse of leaders from so many countries and talking about matters of mutual interest but on several occasions, when I would say just to make conversation, "Well, how are things in fill-in-the-blank," the country of the woman I was with; "And how are things?" I sometimes got a conversation that began in the 10th century. "Ever since the Crusades, it's never been the same."
History can be like a yoke around a people's neck. History can blind you to the possibilities that lie ahead if you're just able to break free and take that step. History has weighed heavily on the Middle East. What we have tried to do over the last 30 years, starting with President Carter, moving through other presidents, including my husband, now this president, is to send a uniquely American message: It can get better, just get over it. Make a decision for hope, make a decision for peace. Create a new reality.
We are criticized for that attitude because to many it seems naïve, dangerously so. That's why we have to combine that optimism, that idealism, with a strong strain of realism. It is not idealism or realism as some of the foreign policy commentators would have you believe: "You cannot be one and the other; you must choose." That's not the world we live in. That is not how America has been successful. We have a duty to combine both. The idealistic aspirations that we hold out for all people, with realistic assessment of how best we can contribute to the journey they must make on their own to realize that for themselves.
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