Blavatt Lecture

Good evening. I want to thank the Eisenhower Institute, Gettysburg College, and the Blavatt family for inviting me to speak – and for sharing your hospitality.

To the students: I’m grateful for the chance to help you procrastinate. It’s always an honor to serve.  

I didn’t study at Gettysburg, but I do have fond memories of your campus and your students. My senior year on the Johns Hopkins football team, we beat the Bullets 54-13.  

I think I had a touchdown that game. 

In fact, I know I did! I didn’t score that many, so you don’t forget them;

It's not like I was going to the Football Hall of Fame.

But I’m happy to be back, Gettysburg! 

And when I got the call to speak, I knew I had to dig deep and do some real research. It’s not every day you get to deliver a lecture. I feel very fancy!

I wanted to apply the same academic methods that any Gettysburg student would devote to a big project;

So I typed my own name into Wikipedia and got to work. 

The Wikipedia entry starts with this: 

“Westley Watende Omari Moore is an American politician.” 

OK, let me stop right there. We already have a problem. 

Yes, I work in politics. Yes, I’m the governor of a state. But being “a politician” has never been the goal.  

In fact when people ask me “what made you want to get into politics?” 

I would say back: “I didn’t. I wanted to be governor.”

Look: I don’t come from the world of government. I wasn’t born into a political family.

I stand here as likely the most improbable governor you’ve ever met.

I was raised by an immigrant single mom who didn’t get her first job that gave her benefits until I was fourteen. 

I’d felt handcuffs on my wrists by the time I was eleven. 

Long before I was running for governor, I was running away from a military school in Pennsylvania – five times in four days! 

I’ve never held elected office before in my life. 

But I stand before you as the first African American governor in Maryland;

And only the third African American governor ever elected in the U.S. 

I didn’t run for office because I wanted to make history. 

That wasn’t the assignment.

I arrived at this work because I wanted to make a difference in the world.

I realize that the idea of someone running for office “to make a difference in the world” might seem trite.

At a time when many politicians seem more interested in making points than making progress; 

At a time when we know our elected representatives are not actually cartoon villains – they just enjoy playing the role on cable TV;

At a time when Congress seems inert;

At a time when problems feel impossible to overcome;

Maybe you think I’m naive!

Maybe you think anyone who chooses to work within “the system” is naive. 

And you don’t have to say it, because I’ve already heard it. 

When I talk to Maryland college students, they tell me exactly what they think – even when I don’t want to hear it.

“Politicians are full of it.” “The Supreme Court is corrupt.”  “The criminal justice system is broken.” “The media lies.”  

I’ve heard this from Marylanders of all backgrounds and ideologies. 

And their concerns don’t end at the state line.

We live in an age of mistrust between our young people and our institutions.

It’s a mistrust I’ve seen. It’s a mistrust I’ve felt.

And that mistrust leads you to one of two different solutions. You can either retreat – OR you can lean in to fix and to heal the very systems that tried to break and harm you. 

Tonight, I will tell you why I decided to work WITHIN the systems that have often failed me and the people I love.

And tonight, I will make a case for why we need more young people to feel optimistic about our democracy – and raise their hands to fix our institutions, from the inside out.

But I also want to be very clear: Just because I think our young people don’t trust institutions doesn’t mean I think they’re “lazy” or even “cynical.”

That’s not what I see. 

We need to start this conversation by recognizing that Gen-Z may have given up on institutions, but they haven’t given up on society! 

You are the ones who call on us to implement policies to save a planet that past generations have been quick to neglect.

You are the ones sitting in the Capitol building demanding that Congress protect a women’s right to choose.

Gen Z embodies the best of us. And I’m not just saying that because many of you have great hair!

I say it because you are part of one of the most hard-charging, inclusive, and activist generations in American history.

From where I stand, I don’t think you’ve given up on society at all. I think you’ve given up on a system that hasn’t delivered.

I know that many of you are products of that system. And I am too.

My story begins with a failing system.

One of my very first memories is seeing – with my own two eyes – what happens when institutions built to protect us end up hurting us. 

I’m talking about when my father died in front of me when I was three years old.

 

He had a rare but treatable disease that went unrecognized and untreated by doctors. He shared his symptoms and sought help, but didn’t get it.

When my mother got to the hospital to check on him she was asked questions like: “Is  he prone to exaggeration.”

And because the health care establishment didn’t see him, he died when he could have been saved.

The system failed my father. It failed our family.

My father’s passing marked my entrance into a broken world built on broken systems. 

I saw the cruelty in our society. I saw the prejudice in our people. I saw the inadequacy of our institutions.

The same mistrust that fills our young people now filled me back then.

When it came time for me to chart my own path, I could’ve chosen a life of bitterness. I could’ve spent my career defying the institutions that let my family down.

When your most formative experience of America is failure, pain, and disappointment, you don’t want to buy in.

Those things can make you angry. 

They can diminish your faith. 

They can leave you convinced that everything the system touches rots – including us.

But what if we could change the system and keep our morals intact? 

What if we could break the cycle of false promises that plague our country and our people?

And that’s what I’ve been trying to do my entire life.

I founded a company to help underserved students become the first in their family to earn a college degree;

I led one of the largest poverty-fighting organizations in America;

I joined the Army, leading soldiers in Afghanistan;

I worked in the State Department as a White House fellow.

But no matter how deep within the system I’ve gone, I’ve always held onto my past. 

When you remember your history, you remember what you fight for.

I’ve held onto my history as the son of a father whose doctors did not help him when he needed them most. 

I’ve held on to my history as the great-grandson of a man who was chased out of the country by the Ku Klux Klan.

I’ve held onto my history as an African American, who now works in an office built by enslaved people, just a few blocks from what used to be one of America’s largest slave ports. 

And so in every room I’ve found myself, I knew I was there for a reason: I was there not to buy into the system, but to help redefine it. 

And here’s the thing: The more rooms you’re in, the more you realize just how systemic our challenges are!

When I ran the poverty-fighting organization Robin Hood, we raised and invested over $600 million in philanthropy. 

“But it’s not the choice of the person who sits under poverty’s weight. It's a policy choice.”

The climate crisis is a policy choice.  

Disparities in health care is a policy choice. 

Inequality is a policy choice.

And the only way to address bad policy choices is with good policy solutions. 

You see: I didn’t choose to run for governor because our democracy has such a wonderful track record;

I ran because I’m tired of cleaning up the debris! 

My faith in the power of our institutions to fix what they’ve broken doesn’t come from blind optimism;

It comes from a deep knowledge of the mistakes we’ve made – and a deep desire to remedy them.

But if there’s anything our history teaches us, it’s that our institutions only improve when the new generation makes the choice to improve them.​

America owes its greatness to young people entering the fray to change the faulty systems they've inherited.

The man behind the passage of the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act joined the Texas legislature at the age of twenty-nine.

The Speaker of the House who signed the 19th Amendment giving women the right to vote began his career in Massachusetts government at twenty-eight.

The author of the Supreme Court decision in Brown v. Board took his first job as a legislative aid in the California Assembly at twenty-seven.

We need that young leadership again today.

You see, I’ve traveled all the way up here from Maryland because we don’t just need to battle the mistrust;

We need to get good people with big dreams believing in the idea that they can change the direction of our democracy not by fighting the power, but by assuming it. 

I see so much potential in this generation and in this college. And we need to make sure your potential goes to good use.

We need people working within our institutions who feel a sense of responsibility and compassion for their fellow human beings. 

I see that in Gettysburg College.

We need people who believe that we can achieve big things and solve big problems by working together. 

I see that in Gettysburg College.

We don’t just appreciate this generation. We need you to lead!

Our nation stands to lose too much if the most talented members of our society spend their time simply reminding us of our brokenness.

So Gettysburg: I’m here to recruit you, not because I think our institutions are perfect, but because I KNOW they’re imperfect – and you can help fix them.

That’s the beauty and the pain of democracy: 

In the wrong hands, we fail. In the right hands, we thrive.

My call to action today is more than a philosophical exercise. It’s rooted in the things I’ve seen in my first ten months as governor of Maryland.

We took office saying we weren’t going to subscribe to the old ways of doing things.

We took office saying we would take on the challenges that everyone ignored – or said were too hard to deal with.

We took office unapologetic in our belief that we can do big things and drive change.

And let me tell you what our institutions can achieve with the right people in the right places:

We can pass common-sense laws to crack down on gun violence, and that’s what we did in Maryland. 

We can raise the minimum wage to promote a more equitable economy that works for everyone – and that’s what we did in Maryland.

We can accelerate the transition to a cleaner, greener, more resilient future and fight the climate crisis – and that’s what we did in Maryland.

We can protect a woman’s right to choose and codify Roe – and that’s what we’re doing in Maryland.

We can build out new programs that support our young people…

And while we love our four-year institutions, we must end the myth that every student must attend one in order to be economically successful.

We’re doing both in Maryland. 

And I’m proud that last week, I stood with hundreds of people of all ages to announce the launch of a historic, paid service-year program for high school graduates in our state to help us achieve those goals.

This initiative is the first of its kind in America.

It’s going to prepare the next generation to win good-paying jobs with livable wages and good benefits;

It’s going to build stronger pathways to prosperity – whether your journey takes you to a university degree, a two-year college, an apprenticeship, or somewhere else;

It’s going to help Marylanders get to know each other again, so we can overcome this moment of political division;

And it’s going to connect young people with opportunities to serve their communities – and their service will save us.

[PAUSE]

I don’t know about you, but that’s not how I want to live.

But I also know this: Just because we choose to serve doesn’t mean we have to give up our morals, our values, or even our mistrust of the system!

In America, public service and skepticism go hand-in-hand. They always have. They always will.

It’s Senator Bobby Kennedy calling for an end to the conflict in Vietnam, even if it meant defying a president from his own party.

It’s Justice Sonia Sotomayor taking a stand against her colleagues who would rather strip a woman of the right to choose than honor court precedent. 

It’s Congressman John Lewis urging us to get into “good trouble” and shake up the status quo.

Our greatest leaders have questioned the systems they work within. 

Our greatest leaders have remembered that your hope and your skepticism don’t have to be in conflict. 

Skepticism should always be your companion – but it should never be your conqueror.

That, in my mind, is the true nature of American patriotism. 

It’s not waving a flag. It’s not voting Red or Blue. 

Loving your country doesn’t mean lying about it;

Loving your country means understanding our nation is flawed, but it’s still worth fighting for.

It’s understanding that our nation can do big things, and that big things need to be done – but not without each of us working together to make things right.

Change the system. And don’t let the system change you. 

That is my message today.

I will close with this:

My first memory is of my father dying. But my next memory is of the community that embraced us.

When things were most bleak, a church in our neighborhood rushed to our side.

We didn’t worship at this church. We didn’t belong to this church.

But still, they came to help us.

They were one of the first to say: “You’re going to be okay.”

One institution failed us. But another institution saved us.

I still waver between faith and mistrust in the system. And I always will.

But we only have a short time on this earth – and we need to use that time wisely.

I am in awe of this generation. 

You do not wait for permission to be bold. 

You do not play by the old rules of the old guard. 

You stand with millions of young people across the country and around the world who feel the same.

Each of us has our own work to do. Each of us has our own call to answer.

But no matter the calling, do not give up on the possibility that you might find your own place in the American story.

Do not give up on the possibility that you can help us write the next chapter – and you can do it not from outside the system, but from within it.

As the hero of the Harlem Renaissance, Langston Hughes, told us when he was just twenty-five years old: 

“[One day] they’ll see how beautiful I am and be ashamed. I, too, am America.”

Thank you for the invitation. Thank you for your attention. And I look forward to your questions.