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Darren Walker has lived the promise of America.
Born to a single mother in a Louisiana charity hospital, the pride of Head Start and public schools in rural East Texas, Walker serves today as the tenth President of the Ford Foundation, among the largest private foundations in the United States. Since 2013, he has overseen more than $7 billion in grantmaking, while transforming philanthropy and inspiring conversations about and commitments to democratic values and institutions around the world. As Walker writes, “I have lived on both sides of American inequality. And I know, all too personally, that the distance between the two has never been greater.”
In The Idea of America: Reflections on Inequality, Democracy, and the Values We Share, Walker argues that we can narrow our widening divides by rediscovering our common aspirations and common good. With an original foreword by President William Jefferson Clinton, this prescient, timely compendium introduces us to an essential leader of and for our moment—in his own words—through his most essential reflections, essays, and speeches.
Across 97 selected pieces, many published here for the first time, Walker shares from his:
Ultimately, Walker calls for courageous, moral leadership from us all—challenging us to step back from the extremes, to lean into nuance and complexity, and to build longer bridges.
“Hope,” Walker affirms, “is the oxygen of democracy.” The Idea of America gives powerful testimony to all that is possible “if we renew our fidelity to the values that bind us, both despite and because of our differences.”
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COVER
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
FOREWORD
PART I: MY AMERICAN STORY AND OUR AMERICAN JOURNEY
FINDING MY WAY HOME
BUILD A BRIDGE TO A BETTER WORLD
THE POWER OF THE MIGHTY SUNFLOWER
ACTIVISM IS OUR RENT
A PROUD SON OF THE AMERICAN SOUTH
HEALING AND SERVING THE WORLD
REPEAL OF AFFIRMATIVE ACTION IS ONLY THE BEGINNING
PART II: UPROOTING INEQUALITY AND MOVING THE FORD FOUNDATION FORWARD
ENDURING MISSION, NEW VISION
TAKING STOCK, LOOKING AHEAD
A TWELVE-MONTH AWAKENING
REFLECTING ON WHAT'S NEXT
A PERSONAL REQUEST
WORK IN DETROIT DOESN'T END WITH GRAND BARGAIN
WHAT'S NEXT FOR THE FORD FOUNDATION: A BLUEPRINT FOR SOCIAL-JUSTICE PHILANTHROPY
WHAT WE'VE LEARNED
ADDRESSING GLOBAL INEQUALITY
WHERE WE'RE GOING
BUILDING HEALTHY ORGANIZATIONS
WHAT THIS MEANS
ALL IN ON DETROIT
MOVING THE FORD FOUNDATION FORWARD
CONSOLIDATING FOR IMPACT
MAKING DIFFICULT CHOICES
RECOGNIZING THAT INSTITUTIONS MATTER
ADDRESSING THE OVERHEAD FICTION
CONFRONTING THE ENDOWMENT QUESTION
RISK, REINVENTION, AND RENEWAL
WITH THANKS
MOVING FORWARD
PUTTING FORD
FORWARD
INTO ACTION
TAKING AN INTEGRATED APPROACH
INVESTING IN ORGANIZATIONS
LEARNING ABOUT STRENGTHENING INSTITUTIONS
A LARGER OBJECTIVE
IGNORANCE IS THE ENEMY WITHIN
CONFRONTING POWER, PRIVILEGE, AND IGNORANCE
DISABILITY, INEQUALITY, MISSED OPPORTUNITIES
FROM IGNORANCE TO ENLIGHTENMENT
DEMANDING MORE OF OURSELVES, DELIVERING MORE FOR OTHERS
UNLEASHING THE POWER OF ENDOWMENTS: THE NEXT GREAT CHALLENGE FOR PHILANTHROPY
OUR HISTORY IN IMPACT INVESTING: PROGRAM-RELATED INVESTMENTS
THE NEXT STEP: MISSION-RELATED INVESTMENTS
WHY NOW: THE CHANGING LANDSCAPE
OUR DECISION
THE NEXT GREAT CHALLENGE FOR PHILANTHROPY
A $1 BILLION EXPERIMENT IN PHILANTHROPIC INVESTING
ALIGNING OUR INVESTMENTS AND OUR VALUES
HEALING THE BREACH: THE FORD FAMILY AND FORD FOUNDATION
PART III: A NEW GOSPEL OF GIVING FOR OUR NEW GILDED AGE
REJECTING THE TYRANNY OF STRATEGY
TOWARD A NEW GOSPEL OF WEALTH
THE ORIGINS OF MODERN PHILANTHROPY
RETHINKING THE GOSPEL OF GIVING
A TWENTY-FIRST-CENTURY VIEW OF INEQUALITY
THREE STEPS TOWARD REDUCING INEQUALITY
OUR OBLIGATION TO CAPITALISM
MAINTAINING THE MOBILITY ESCALATOR TOGETHER
WHY GIVING BACK ISN'T ENOUGH
PHILANTHROPY IS AN AMERICAN IDEA AND BIRTHRIGHT
THE COMING OF HOPE: A VISION FOR PHILANTHROPY IN THE NEW YEAR
AN OBLIGATION TO LISTEN AND DO BETTER
THE ARCHITECTURE OF PROGRESS
RECKONING WITH PRIVILEGE
CONFRONTING INEQUALITY IN THE YEARS AHEAD
THE HARD WORK OF HOPE: HOW WE MOVE FORWARD
IN SUPPORT OF PHILANTHROPIC PLURALISM
AVOIDING DESTRUCTIVE DISAGREEMENTS
FINDING PHILANTHROPY'S FORGOTTEN FOUNDER
PART IV: THE ART OF DEMOCRACY
OPEN AND FREE: ON ARTS, DEMOCRACY, AND INEQUALITY
MY JOURNEY IN—AND BECAUSE OF—THE ARTS
A GATHERING CRISIS FOR THE ARTS: A MENTALITY OF INSTRUMENTALITY
WHY IS THIS CRISIS HAPPENING?
SHORT-TERMISM INFECTS OUR DECISION-MAKING
THIS ISN'T MERELY AN ARTS ISSUE; IT'S AN INEQUALITY ISSUE
THE FORD FOUNDATION'S COMMITMENT: THE ARTS WILL REMAIN AT THE HEART OF EVERYTHING WE DO
OUR CALL TO ACTION
THE IMPERATIVE OF DIVERSITY IN ARTS AND CULTURE
ON THE ART OF CHANGE
OUR MENTALITY OF INSTRUMENTALITY
SHORT-TERMISM IS THE ENEMY OF ART
ECONOMIES OF EMPATHY
THE ART OF CHANGE
WHY THE ARTS ARE AT THE HEART OF OUR MISSION
THE DETROIT INSTITUTE OF ARTS BELONGS TO THE PEOPLE—AS DOES THE CITY OF DETROIT
OUR NATION'S MOST PRECIOUS HERITAGE
YES JUSTICE, YES PEACE: THE ROLE OF ART IN CONFRONTING INEQUALITY
THE ART OF DEMOCRACY: CREATIVE EXPRESSION AND AMERICAN GREATNESS
A POVERTY OF IMAGINATION
THE CHALLENGE OF OUR MOMENT
ONE COMMON ARGUMENT AND ITS LIMITS
THE NECESSITY OF GOVERNMENT INVESTMENT
AN ARGUMENT FOR OUR CURRENT MOMENT
ON AMERICAN GREATNESS
KEEPING AMERICA GREAT
CELEBRATING DEMOCRACY'S ART
MUSEUMS NEED TO STEP INTO THE FUTURE
THROUGH ART, HOPE—AND THROUGH HOPE, JUSTICE
THE URGENCY OF ART: ART AND JUSTICE DURING A TIME OF CRISIS
PART V: DEMOCRATIC CAPITALISM: ECONOMIC OPPORTUNITY AND SHARED PROSPERITY
WHERE MARKETS LEAD, JUSTICE MUST FOLLOW
INTERNSHIPS ARE NOT A PRIVILEGE
BUILDING INCLUSIVE ECONOMIES IN AN ERA OF INEQUALITY
ON THE FUTURE OF WORK(ERS)
ADDRESSING URGENT QUESTIONS
INEQUALITY AND THE FUTURE OF WORK
FOCUSING ON WORKERS
BROADENING THE CONVERSATION
THE STAKES ARE HIGH
THE VALUE OF WHAT MATTERS
HOW TO SAVE CAPITALISM FROM ITSELF
ARE YOU WILLING TO GIVE UP YOUR PRIVILEGE?
IN RESPONSE 50 YEARS LATER: THE “SUBVERSIVE DOCTRINE” OF MILTON FRIEDMAN
SHARED COMPANY OWNERSHIP MAY BE THE MISSING PATH TO THE AMERICAN DREAM
AI IS CHANGING EVERYTHING—AND WE NEED NEW GUARDRAILS
PART VI: THE COVID-19 CRISIS: EXTRAORDINARY TIMES, EXTRAORDINARY MEASURES
A NOTE FROM HOME
WHY FOUNDATIONS LIKE MINE NEED TO GIVE MORE TO STAVE OFF THE COLLAPSE OF VITAL NONPROFITS
EXTRAORDINARY TIMES, EXTRAORDINARY MEASURES
CIVIL SOCIETY: NEEDED AND IN NEED
A ONCE-IN-A-CENTURY RESPONSE
A CALL TO UNLEASH EVERY RESOURCE
TO END THE PANDEMIC, EVERY BUSINESS LEADER MUST PUT WORKER HEALTH AND EQUITY FIRST
REBUILDING OUR POST-COVID WORLD TOGETHER
THE BEFORE AND THE AFTER
WHAT CAN WE BUILD TOGETHER
A NEW PROGRESSIVE ERA
AN EQUITABLE VACCINE ROLLOUT MUST PRIORITIZE THE MOST VULNERABLE
HOW TO END GLOBAL VACCINE INEQUALITY
THE STUBBORN PERSISTENCE OF VACCINE INEQUALITY
INTERNAL INEQUITIES
GLOBAL ASSISTANCE, LOCAL SOLUTIONS
PART VII: FROM AN AMERICAN CENTURY TO INCLUSIVE GLOBAL ENGAGEMENT
DEMOCRACY HAS NO FINISH LINE
A NEW GLOBAL ERA OF URBAN DISRUPTION
HOW CAN WE HELP YOU?
CIVIL SOCIETY UNDER SIEGE
THE TYRANNY OF DONORS
THE GENERAL SUPPORT DROUGHT
USHERING IN A NEW ERA OF INSTITUTION BUILDING
BUILDING THIS NEW ERA TOGETHER
OLD MONEY, NEW ORDER: AMERICAN PHILANTHROPIES AND THE DEFENSE OF LIBERAL DEMOCRACY
HOW TO SPEND IT
COLD WARRIORS
SHOCKS TO THE SYSTEM
MULTIPOLAR GIVING
SUPPORTING UKRAINE AND THE VALUES OF DEMOCRACY
BUILDING A MORE INCLUSIVE GLOBAL ORDER
PART VIII: OUT OF MANY, ONE: WHY DIFFERENCE NEED NOT YIELD DIVISION
THE OPPOSITE OF INEQUALITY IS JUSTICE
CHOOSING
E PLURIBUS UNUM
CONFRONTING ANTI-ASIAN VIOLENCE
BUILDING MULTIETHNIC, MULTIRACIAL, PLURALIST DEMOCRACIES
TURNING THE RISING TIDE OF ANTI-SEMITISM
HOLDING FAST TO OUR SHARED HUMANITY
THE DEMOCRATIC VALUES THAT BIND US TOGETHER
PART IX: THE PROMISE OF AMERICA
A NEW TESTAMENT OF HOPE
FOUNDING CONTRADICTION
GRINDING INEQUALITY AND ITS CORROSIVE EFFECTS
OUR CRIMINAL JUSTICE SYSTEM TODAY
A NEW TESTAMENT OF HOPE
MY RADICAL OPTIMISM
WHAT MAKES US EXCEPTIONAL: THE ACT OF PERFECTING, NOT THE FACT OF PERFECTION
THE POWER OF PRIVILEGE
LET AMERICA BE AMERICA AGAIN
TWO REACTIONS TO OUR CURRENT MOMENT
CONFRONTING DIVISIONS, AFFIRMING DIGNITY
THE PATH FORWARD: “AMERICA WILL BE!”
JUSTICE OVER GREATNESS: A NEW YEAR'S REFLECTION
THE IMPERATIVE OF ACTION
WHAT THE FORD FOUNDATION IS DOING
DEMOCRACY, RIGHTS, AND FREE EXPRESSION
DIGNITY AND WORK IN THE AGE OF AUTOMATION
THE INTERNET AS A PLATFORM FOR JUSTICE
EXPLORATIONS AND ELEVATIONS
JUSTICE IS THE BETTER PART OF GREATNESS
WITH FOUR FREEDOMS, FOUR RESPONSIBILITIES: A DEFENSE OF DEMOCRATIC VALUES
WISDOM FROM THE PAST
WHY NOW?
OUR FOUR RESPONSIBILITIES
WHAT FOLLOWS
I. WITH THE FREEDOM OF SPEECH, THE RESPONSIBILITY TO LISTEN
II. WITH THE FREEDOM OF BELIEF, THE RESPONSIBILITY TO ACCEPT
III. WITH THE FREEDOM FROM WANT, THE RESPONSIBILITY TO SERVE
IV. WITH THE FREEDOM FROM FEAR, THE RESPONSIBILITY TO ACT
OUR CHOICE: ACTION OR THE ALTERNATIVE
DEMOCRACY IS A THREAT TO WHITE SUPREMACY
THE DAWN IS OURS
INCLUSION IS PATRIOTISM OF THE HIGHEST ORDER
JEFFERSON'S REPUBLIC, 246 YEARS ON
THESE TRUTHS WE HOLD
PART X: IN CELEBRATION: PROFILES IN LOVE AND LEADERSHIP
MY DAVID: A LOVE STORY
JOHN LEWIS: A LEGACY OF GOOD TROUBLE
THE RESOLVE AND RIGHTEOUSNESS OF RUTH BADER GINSBURG
STANDING ON THE BROAD SHOULDERS OF VERNON JORDAN
CELEBRATING THE REMARKABLE LEGACY OF FRANKLIN THOMAS
FRANKLIN THOMAS, GIANT OF JUSTICE AND GENEROSITY
VARTAN GREGORIAN: THE PHILANTHROPIST'S PHILANTHROPIST
UNAFRAID, UNBOWED, AND UNAPOLOGETIC: THE LIFE AND LEGACY OF JUDY HEUMANN
HARRY BELAFONTE: FIREFIGHTER FOR JUSTICE
THE GIFT AND THE GRACE OF ALMA POWELL
CECILE RICHARDS, CHAMPION FOR JUSTICE, FOREVER UNDAUNTED
PART XI: A CALL FOR COURAGEOUS, MORAL LEADERSHIP
A CALL FOR MORAL COURAGE IN AMERICA
A RUMBLE OF HATE, A MOMENT OF CLARITY
HOW WE GOT HERE
RECKONING WITH OUR HISTORY AND REALITY
THE SYSTEMS THAT CONSTRAIN US
PROFILES IN COURAGE: THE LEADERSHIP WE NEED
IN DEFENSE OF NUANCE
THE IMPERATIVE OF MORAL LEADERSHIP
A TEST OF MORAL LEADERSHIP
A VISION OF ABSOLUTE EQUALITY
DEMOCRACY AT A CROSSROADS: A CALL FOR COURAGEOUS LEADERSHIP
THERE IS NO LEADERSHIP WITHOUT RISK
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CREDITS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
END USER LICENSE AGREEMENT
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Foreword
Table of Contents
Begin Reading
Acknowledgments
Credits
About the Author
End User License Agreement
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Darren Walker is driven by a deep conviction that the idea of America can be realized if we work together—and his book will make believers out of readers, too. It beautifully captures the spirit of optimism, creativity, and compassion that has made him one of the most influential leaders of the twenty-first century and a force for change on so many important issues.
—Michael Bloomberg
Darren Walker's collection of essays, speeches, and reflections is a testimony from one of the most powerful voices in modern philanthropy. The Idea of America explores how rediscovering our common principles can illuminate a united path forward, at a time when we need it most.
—Amal Clooney and George Clooney
Darren Walker reaches into the marrow of who we are now—and who we might still become. Through a stunning chronicle of his life and learnings, Darren offers not just a reflection, but a reckoning: He shares his vision while reminding us that justice and dignity are not merely ideals of the past, but tasks of the present. Darren is dynamic, propulsive, intentional. His influence is a sprawl—from emerging artists to the world's most high-profile leaders. The Idea of America speaks to that reach, and, more importantly, to the rare and generous spirit that fuels it. In this beautiful book, Darren Walker's unshakable purpose becomes our rallying call.
—Ava DuVernay
With the values of pluralism, inclusion, and social justice under assault, we need to reassert how our historic, shared ideals should unite Americans rather than pull us apart. In these bracing essays, Darren Walker summons us, on the 250th anniversary of our founding, to remember our higher calling as a nation.
—Walter Isaacson
Darren Walker ushered in a new era in the history of American philanthropy, dedicated to closing the inequality gap, centering human dignity, and advancing social justice. In his valedictory book, he curates years of brilliant reflections, seminal essays, and beautifully crafted speeches. Readers witness his remarkable rise, his inquisitive and fertile mind, the clarity of his strategic vision, and the courage of his convictions. Through his visionary leadership, he has rallied us to the enduring creed of forging a more perfect union for all, especially our most disadvantaged fellow citizens. Darren Walker is a singular leader and a unique historical figure, and this collection is both a deeply moving record of his theory and practice of philanthropy, as well as an invaluable resource for those seeking inspiration in these challenging times, eager to build on his legacy by imagining and pursuing a more just and hopeful future.
—Henry Louis Gates, Jr.
ALSO BY DARREN WALKER:
From Generosity to Justice: A New Gospel of Wealth
FOREWORD BY PRESIDENT BILL CLINTON
DARREN WALKER
Copyright © 2025 by Darren Walker. All rights reserved.
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“Let America Be America Again” from THE COLLECTED POEMS OF LANGSTON HUGHES by Langston Hughes, edited by Arnold Rampersad with David Roessel, Associate Editor, copyright © 1994 by the Estate of Langston Hughes. Used by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of the Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.
Reproduced with permission of Harold Ober Associates
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is Available:
ISBN 9781394353828 (Cloth)ISBN 9781394353842 (ePDF)ISBN 9781394353835 (ePub)
Cover Design: WileyAuthor Photo: © Annie Leibovitz
To all who serve the idea of America: That out of many, we are one—created equal with inalienable rights—united by our fidelity to the democratic values we hold self-evident even still.
President Bill Clinton
You never know who you’ll run into walking the halls at the Clinton Global Initiative's Annual Meeting—from young social entrepreneurs, activists, athletes, and academics to CEOs of big companies and founders of small ones they hope will grow; from heads of state and government officials to leaders of small and large NGOs working on every kind of issue; from Hollywood royalty to actual royalty.
In the twenty years since we started holding the meetings, there's always a buzz when Darren Walker enters the room. The explanation for this is simple: In the universe of people working to do social good, few voices are as respected and few track records are as accomplished as his. His leadership of the Ford Foundation has not only transformed a storied institution, but reimagined philanthropy and changed America and the world. When he speaks, this crowd listens.
Darren's journey has been as improbable as it has been uniquely American. Born in a charity hospital in Louisiana and raised in a shotgun house in rural Texas, the trajectory of his life changed forever when his mother enrolled him in the first class of Head Start in 1965. Supported by his family, teachers, and community, he thrived in school. He went on to attend The University of Texas with the help of a Pell grant, earning both his bachelor's and law degrees there.
After working in law and finance for several years, Darren made the transition from the private to the nonprofit sector in the 1990s through his tireless efforts to revitalize Harlem with the Abyssinian Development Corporation. Among his greatest accomplishments was bringing the first supermarket to 125th Street, serving as an anchor to the stretch of boulevard where I would open my post-presidential office just two years later. He then moved to the Rockefeller Foundation, where among other initiatives, he spearheaded the organization's Hurricane Katrina recovery efforts. In 2010, he joined the Ford Foundation, becoming its president in 2013.
In 2015, Darren and Ford announced a bold effort to refocus the foundation's work to solely address the issue of inequality, in all its forms—“in influence, access, agency, resources, and respect.” Inequality, he argued, underlies nearly all other challenges facing the world. Addressing it could strengthen and fundamentally change our political, economic, and cultural systems to ensure full participation and afford the dignity that accompanies it for all people, everywhere. This would change how and for what Ford provided funding, and how it operated and invested as an institution.
Darren's announcement was soon followed by his landmark essay, “Toward a New Gospel of Wealth,” in which he argued that the nineteenth-century model of charity was no longer suited to our increasingly interdependent world. He urged us to move from generosity to justice—not just treating the symptoms of inequality, but dismantling the systems that perpetuate it. That meant listening to more voices and perspectives, especially those who had been left out and left behind for too long and who are closest to the problems we need to solve. And it meant asking hard questions about ourselves and our positions within the power structures that cause inequality in the first place.
In Darren's leadership at Ford since then, he's proved his words were not hollow. He's overseen more than $7 billion in grantmaking to groundbreaking individuals and organizations who are addressing the root causes of poverty and injustice. He's launched an initiative to invest $1 billion of Ford's endowment in mission-oriented areas like affordable housing and biotech, generating a return of both purpose and profit. During the COVID-19 crisis, he pioneered Ford's issuance of the first-ever social bond by a foundation, with the proceeds providing unrestricted support to Ford's nonprofit partners. And in 2021, he announced that Ford would no longer invest in fossil fuels. Every one of these actions encouraged other foundations large and small to follow in Ford's footsteps.
In these pages, you will meet the essential Darren Walker through his most essential speeches and writings, extolling the promise of America and of pluralist democracy all around the world. This is a collection that looks forward, not backward. It doesn't just memorialize Darren's leadership, though it does that. It's also a roadmap for how we move forward together, informed by our shared values.
Throughout the collection, you'll see Darren's prescience. From the very beginning of his tenure in 2013 (and before), he foresaw how inequality of all kinds was tearing apart America's social fabric—and, in turn, tearing apart our culture and politics at the seams. It's only grown worse as the years have progressed, as polarization and the zero-sum politics of resentment become more entrenched and our information ecosystem becomes more broken. Darren captures the sweep of these troubling trends masterfully in his 2024 address at Cooper Union.
But as he has said many times, including in that speech, what makes America great is not the fact of our perfection but our efforts to become more perfect—the mission our founders set for us nearly 250 years ago. What makes America strong is that at key moments, we've been courageous enough to acknowledge our flaws and missteps—and then bold enough to turn wrong into right.
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. summarized America's journey well when he said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” Winston Churchill took a slightly more pessimistic approach when he is said to have quipped, “America always does the right thing after exhausting every other option.” So far, they've both been right, though Dr. King might have said less poetically that we zig and zag toward justice.
In times like this, when we are moving dangerously backward, it is important to remember that there are very few permanent victories or defeats in human affairs. It may be that we are in a period of two steps back before we'll take three steps forward again. After all, as Darren says, “Hope is the oxygen of democracy.” If we truly believe in the promise of America, we can't give up.
The unfinished work ahead, for all of us, is to embrace Darren's call as our own—to build an economy that works for everyone, a society worthy of our noblest aspirations, and a politics that appeals to our better angels. If we all do our part, as Darren has done for twelve years at the Ford Foundation, we can build a future we are truly proud to share.
What makes America great is not the fact of our perfection but our act of becoming more perfect. What makes the American people exceptional is that we have the strength to acknowledge our failings—moral, structural, personal—and the courage to make wrong into right.
Let’s step away from the extremes and from the edge, away from the sanctimony and certitude. Let’s build longer bridges, not higher walls. The cost of the alternative is greater than any of us can bear.
Let’s resolve to listen with humility, curiosity, and empathy—with open hearts and minds. Let’s resolve to extend the presumption of grace and the benefit of the doubt.
The road to enduring justice runs through reconciliation, and the road to reconciliation runs through truth.
One of our hard truths is that, as the poet says, America has never been America. Another truth is that it can be still, and it must be, and it will be—if we renew our fidelity to the values that bind us, both despite and because of our differences.
The New York Times
July 4, 2022
As we approach the 250th anniversary of our founding, we must redeclare that we all are created equal, endowed with equally inalienable rights, and recommit ourselves to realizing these values. We must rededicate ourselves to what President Abraham Lincoln called “the unfinished work” of building the pluralist democracy to which we all aspire.
I believe fiercely in the promise of America. My love for this nation is unyielding and unwavering.
As Americans, we have a charge to keep, a beacon to keep alight, especially now, as minoritarian tyranny has taken hold of our institutions. It is systematically dismantling the scaffolding from which we built our democracy, without any clear sense of what will replace it. For some, perhaps, the objective is not to replace it at all.
In this new era of deconstruction, we must summon renewed fortitude, resilience, and vigilance, with reverence for those who came before us and resolve for those who follow. This will require patriotic defiance, with respect for the rule of law but with fidelity to the ideals that precede it.
With hope, let us rejoin and rebuild, until America is America and the unfinished is complete.
The New York Times
June 30, 2023
Statement upon Appointment as President of the Ford FoundationNew York, New YorkJuly 25, 2013
I am humbled by the trust you have placed in me. I pledge to work with energy and integrity; to lead while listening and learning; to give my everything in service of our mission to build a world that is fairer and more just.
It's been said that our journeys are neither marathons nor sprints, but relays. In that spirit, I have the honor of taking up the baton carried by my venerable predecessors, legends in the field of philanthropy.
To Franklin Thomas, a trailblazer, a visionary, and a mentor to me and so many: Thank you. It is not possible to overstate the influence you've had on me—and on this singular institution. Your voice still echoes in the halls here, and your shadow looms large over our ways of being and our ways of seeing.
To Susan Berresford: Thank you for your decades of good works, strong leadership, and great example. During my years at the Rockefeller Foundation, I always admired you from afar—and found great inspiration in your decency and integrity. I must say that, today, I appreciate your counsel and your friendship more than ever.
To Luis Ubiñas: Thank you for so much—for supporting me, for encouraging me, and for bringing me here. I, quite literally, would not be here had you not called and invited me to talk on a beautiful spring day in 2010.
And, of course, to my colleagues in this building and around the world: I cannot express the depth of my appreciation and admiration for each of you. You have nurtured me, inspired me, sometimes indulged me, and always cheered me on. Our friends and colleagues in Delhi, Cairo, Nairobi, and Johannesburg were particularly generous and welcoming on my recent visits with them.
I must say, the first time I walked into our iconic headquarters as an employee of the Ford Foundation, I not only knew that my life had changed; I knew that I had found my way home.
Almost fifty years ago, my mother was raising my sister Renee and me in the rural, East Texas town of Ames, population 1,800. We lived in a narrow, shotgun house. We had just enough, but not a lot.
Sometime around my fifth birthday, a clipboard-carrying young woman knocked on our door—and began a conversation with my mom on our porch. As it turned out, this woman worked for a brand-new education program—the leading edge of President Johnson's War on Poverty—and she asked my mother if she would enroll me.
My mother said yes, of course. And not long thereafter, I began attending a makeshift preschool at a church not far from our home. It was not until years later that I learned that the idea for this particular program was funded with an investment from the Ford Foundation.
The program was called Head Start. And it gave me mine.
During the years and decades that followed, the Ford Foundation indirectly—and sometimes directly—altered my life's course.
I often remind people that I've never attended a day of private school in my life. I attended the Goose Creek, Texas, public schools—and the Ford Foundation has been, and remains, a passionate advocate for public education.
I'm also a proud alum of The University of Texas, where I went to college and law school, and because my family was low-income, my education was financed in part by a Pell grant, another Ford Foundation policy innovation.
During and after school, I benefited, I'm certain, from affirmative action and diversity policies—policies that the Ford Foundation's courageous grantees like the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund and Mexican American Legal Defense and Education Fund have championed for a half century. Given my background, there were gaps in my college readiness no doubt, but my potential was recognized, and I think most who look at my record in college would agree that it was a successful one.
I started my career in New York, working at a Wall Street law firm and investment bank, where I learned countless, invaluable lessons. But I knew a job in finance wasn't my fate. And after a decade, there it was again—the Ford Foundation was back in my life.
First, in 1994, I met Reverend Calvin Butts and Karen Phillips, the dynamic duo who had founded the Abyssinian Development Corporation, one of many community development corporations across the country, as you know, brought to us all by the Ford Foundation.
People in Harlem didn't appreciate the media's repeated references to Harlem as a “ghetto.” So Calvin Butts, Karen Phillips, and other community residents decided that they should begin the heavy lifting of rebuilding their historic neighborhood and restoring its reputation.
But at the time, ADC was just getting going—and it needed funding. Fortunately, Ford had created the Local Initiatives Support Corporation or LISC. With the support of LISC's energetic leader Paul Grogan, it awarded ADC with a sizeable grant, more than enough to hire a younger, slimmer Darren Walker. And not long thereafter, we secured our first Ford Foundation grant—an imprimatur of excellence—courtesy of Ford's Melvin Oliver and Fred Davie.
And thus began an unexpected adventure that later brought me to the Rockefeller Foundation. To the world of philanthropy, about which, quite frankly, I knew absolutely nothing. And eventually to my role with Judith Rodin, a brilliant agent of innovation and change. The rest, as they say, is history.
The point of all this is both simple and profound: In so many ways, my life's story is inseparable from the Ford Foundation's story. I am of this place. I am because of it.
And I share my story not because it somehow makes me unique. I share it because my story is not unique.
Around the world, the Ford Foundation has touched and transformed the lives of millions of young boys and girls who have hopes and dreams, aspirations that they have the right to pursue.
Around the globe, we and our grantees measure our accomplishments in wars for social justice won—and in battles for social justice we're still waging. We are builders at the Ford Foundation. We build lasting institutions, human capital and capacity, transformative ideas.
So our work remains as relevant as ever, perhaps more so. And that is precisely because what philanthropy can—and must—do has never been more important. This is why we are called to be here—all of us.
I'm reminded, in fact, of a message to philanthropists written by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., exactly fifty years ago, as he and so many others prepared for the Birmingham Campaign.
“Philanthropy is commendable,” he wrote. “But”—and I'm quoting here—“it must not cause the philanthropist to overlook the circumstances of economic injustice which make philanthropy necessary.”
Think about that. These words still challenge us today. They challenge us not to be smug in our privilege—nor comfortable in our abundance.
Maybe the way we should see it is that our most important job is to work ourselves out of a job—to toil against injustice until there is justice; to even out inequality until there is equality.
That means we will never be content to merely wait for “the long arc of history” to “bend toward justice.” Rather, we find and support those who are doing the bending—our valiant grantees.
And, finally, in everything we do, we cannot lose sight of the imperative for social innovation. We have to honestly ask and assess: As an institution that has been on front lines of social innovation for seventy-five years, how do we most effectively reimagine, reinvent, and retool today—to advance not only development, but justice?
In the days and weeks ahead, I'm excited to spend as much time with as many of you as possible. I'll ask this question and others, like, how can we better cooperate and collaborate and cocreate with our peer and partner institutions?
I pledge to listen—and I promise to learn.
Most of all, I give you my word: I will not forget where we started—where I started—and what we all stand for, and what we work for. The fight for human dignity wherever we are in the world. The unfettered expansion of human rights. The unrelenting pursuit of social justice. The conviction that all children—like those two kids on the stoop in East Texas—deserve a fair start in life, no matter where or how we begin.
For me, the board's decision to appoint me as the Ford Foundation's tenth president is the thrill of my life. As I said, I'm deeply humbled in so many ways.
But the greatest honor and privilege of all is that I can continue serving with you, my colleagues—from New Delhi to New York; from Jakarta to Johannesburg; from Cairo to Beijing; from Lagos to Rio de Janeiro, Santiago, and Mexico City. You are the foundation of this foundation. I will always, always remember that.
And so let's embrace our future. Boldly. With ambition and humility. Mindful of our legacy. With the conviction of our ideals and values. But, most of all, together.
Address to The University of Texas at Austin Class of 2015Austin, TexasMay 23, 2015
Thank you, President Powers, for your generous words, for so warmly welcoming me back to the Forty Acres, and—much more importantly—for your almost forty years of service to The University of Texas.
Through decades of progress, and a few moments of adversity, your unwavering courage has set a powerful example for generations—and your boundless love for this institution has remained a stalwart inspiration to me, and to alumni around the world.
To you, President Powers; to our distinguished regents; to President-Elect Fenves; esteemed deans; members of the faculty and staff; honored guests; family and friends of the graduates; and, most importantly to the Class of 2015: Congratulations!
This is a momentous evening—a monumental rite of passage—one of those special, fleeting moments that will radiate in your memories for the rest of your lives.
Take it from me. I can vividly recall almost everything about my commencement day. The pride. The joy. The uncertainty. The relief.
I also remember when I first set foot on this campus in 1978; I was a clueless, naive, skinny version of myself. There I was, walking past new kinds of people (I had never seen hippies before); walking on the Drag and into this weird, funky, hole-in-the-wall grocery store (a place called Whole Foods).
I always knew I wanted to be a part of the UT community—and, though I've traveled far and wide, I've never been apart from it.
My first semester here, I believe I responded to every sign-up sheet I saw on the West Mall. During my time on this magical campus, I drank UT life from a firehose. Every drop. In many ways, it was only when I arrived here that my life finally started.
Now, to understand what I mean, you have to understand where I was coming from.
I was born to a single mother in a charity hospital, and we lived in a small, segregated, Louisiana town. But my mother realized that this community was not a place of opportunity for my sister and me, and so we moved to Texas, where we had family—specifically to a town called Ames, population 1,800, in Liberty County.
My mom studied to become a nurse's assistant, a job she worked—with pride and dignity—for decades. I attended public schools.
We didn't have a lot. But we had enough. And these were my beginnings.
Class of 2015: I tell you all this for two reasons. First, your name is on the degree, but it doesn't belong only to you. The second reason I tell you this story is because my story is your story.
The story of a boy who started life in a little shotgun house in Ames, Texas; the story of a young man who made his way up the ladder in a new city, who has the great privilege of leading an institution committed to ending poverty and injustice in the world—this is a Texas story. This is an American story.
It's a story about transcending and overcoming; about the pathway out and forward. In short, it's a story about bridges. About crossing them. Building them. Being them.
You see, my mother crossed a bridge to take my sister and me into Texas. I'll never forget crossing the bridge over the Colorado River on my first visit to Austin. I crossed a bridge into New York when I took my University of Texas education out into the world.
In fact, every major turning point in my life—every figurative bridge—has been accompanied by a literal one.
Yet, the most important crossings in our lives are not always made of cables and concrete and steel. The bridges in our lives take many forms.
On my journey, there was my mother—a bridge from poverty into possibility. But there also were public policies that reflected the generosity of America, the country we love—the only country in the world where my story could even be possible.
A program called Head Start was my bridge between being unready for life and prepared for school.
Private scholarships from Texas philanthropists and Pell grants were my bridge between lower expectations and higher education.
And during my formative years, I always knew—with every fiber of my being—that Texas had my back. That Texas was cheering me on.
In Austin, I had mentors like my English professor, John Trimble, who told me that you don't come to college to get a job; you come to college to get an education. I had champions—women and men who, through their kindness, offered me a bridge to a world I could not have imagined on my own. Without them, I wouldn't be here. Period.
Graduates: Just like me, you're the product of a community that has prepared you to prosper and to thrive.
In New York, I inhabit a world of prep school grads and Ivy League alums. The tiny island of Manhattan is densely packed with some of the most talented, ambitious people on the planet. But my UT education—my public-school education—prepared me to compete, to succeed, and, ultimately, to lead. And it has prepared you, too.
This is the privilege of Texas bigheartedness—the promise of Texas bridges.
My bridges were Black, white, gay, straight, rich, poor, and everything in between. And like all bridges, they don't discriminate. They join people and places of all creeds and colors, of all communities and categories. They take us on a journey, together—hopefully, somewhere better. And this is something of which I was reminded only a few months ago, on a very special bridge in Selma, Alabama.
As many of you know, this year marks the fiftieth anniversary of the Civil Rights Movement's Bloody Sunday, a defining moment in American history. I was honored to attend the celebration back in March. It was incredibly, profoundly moving.
I traveled to Selma with one of my personal heroes, Congressman John Lewis, who marched on the Edmund Pettus Bridge a half century ago. When John boldly led the group of marchers forward in 1965, he was a twenty-five-year-old kid, more or less, your age. He not only yearned for a better world; he was willing to give everything for it.
Meanwhile, a few hundred miles away, I was just five years old, and I had no idea what John Lewis was doing for me. He and the others on the bridge marched into men on horses with clubs—straight into a swift and certain beating—so that I wouldn't have to. Indeed, I am here today because John Lewis, and countless others, put their lives on the line, and made sacrifices for what they believed in.
And yet, there is more that we must do together.
We must continue to bridge gaps of inequality—in our culture, in our economy, in our discourse, and in our politics. Because the truth is, we see inequality virtually everywhere—in studies and statistics; in schoolhouses and courthouses and jailhouses; and, yes, on the streets of Baltimore and Ferguson and elsewhere.
To me, the challenges of our system are intensely personal. My childhood friends were cousins—boys with talents and passions and potential no different from my own.
As I mentioned, my mother moved my sister and me from Louisiana to Texas. But what happened to my cousins who stayed behind? They found themselves in the same cycle of despair that has caught too many young Black men. By my count, five of them have spent significant time in prison.
It's hard to know why, for some of us, life unfolds in one way—and, for others, completely differently. But, in my case, I think bridges made the difference. People had my back, and institutions kept me moving forward. I had bridges built in Texas, and beyond. I had bridges to hope.
And so, I choose to be hopeful—radically hopeful—because there is hope in the progress we have seen, which affirms that more progress is possible. My story is all the evidence you need: A Black kid from a working-class, rural, Texas town, now president of one of our nation's flagship institutions.
I am proof of what happens when people set aside differences, and build bridges instead. And I've made my life's story into my life's passion—and my life's passion into my life's project: Ensuring that every boy and girl in this country and around the world can cross the same bridges that I did.
This is not a new aspiration. These are not new ideas.
America always has been about people choosing to bind themselves together. Actively choosing.
We are “we, the people.” We are e pluribus unum—out of many, one. We are the hope of mothers and fathers of every origin crossing an ocean—or a river. We are the transcontinental railroad and transatlantic flights and the interstate highway system and the Internet. We are Ellis Island and the Edmund Pettus Bridge.
I know each of you has your own bridges to build, and to traverse. The bridge between graduation and getting a job. The bridge between an environment in peril and ecosystems back in balance. The bridge between communities desperate with need and those rich in abundance.
And so, tonight, as you cross the figurative bridge that is your commencement day—as you cross that bridge over the Colorado River and leave the Forty Acres behind; as your journey unfolds before your very eyes—think about how you can build a bridge to a better world.
You know, my office at the Ford Foundation is overflowing with mementos and memories from my unlikely journey—artifacts from global megacities and rural villages alike.
I traveled more than one hundred thousand miles last year—from boardrooms to battered slums; from Detroit to Delhi; from the United Nations to the most impoverished of countries. Everywhere I visit, I try to bring something back, even if it's just an idea.
Among the many important things I keep are two sticky notes, affixed to my computer monitor. On them are written a pair of personal mottos. One says “pressure is a privilege.” The other, “You rest, you rust.”
No doubt, bridges endure a lot of pressure. Bridges corrode, and crumble. They rust. Being a bridge is the work of a lifetime.
But you're prepared. Privileged, but poised to change the world.
Yes, a banker can be a bridge. A teacher can be a bridge. A social worker or a scientist, a doctor or a diplomat, a police officer or a computer programmer can be a bridge. And for you law-school grads and hopefuls out there: Even a lawyer can be a bridge.
So, every time you feel pressure, embrace the privilege. Every time you feel tempted to rest on your laurels, make that day matter. Because, yes, “what starts here changes the world,” but in order to change the world, what starts here cannot stop here.
As I've traveled the globe, I've seen how Texas has prepared me for every challenge, to cross every bridge, to build bridges where they didn't yet exist. And everywhere I go, I know that the world needs a little more of that Texas spirit.
Class of 2015: Your future is here. I cannot wait to see what bridges you cross, what bridges you build, and who you bring together on your journey.
Oh, and one last thing: Hook 'em Horns!
Address to The University of Texas at Austin Law School Class of 2016Austin, TexasMay 21, 2016
It is wonderful to be back on the Forty Acres. I spent seven of the most glorious years of my life, formative years, on this great campus. And while I live in New York City, returning to Austin always feels like coming home.
As I remember it, law school was the best, hardest experience of my life. I felt so proud to walk up the steps of Townes Hall each morning. I was inspired and challenged by the great faculty. And I made friends and built relationships that remain with me today.
Today, as someone who travels in circles outside Texas, I can say one thing with certainty: Far beyond the borders of this state, this degree—and this institution—has a reputation for excellence, and for producing excellent lawyers. When I think about this outstanding law school, and its impact on my life, one simple word always comes to mind: Prepared.
Now this might seem like a pretty boring, unimpressive word. But there's a big idea in it. So let me tell you what I mean.
For most of the twentieth century, a law degree prepared you to be a lawyer. In the twenty-first century, a law degree prepares you to be anything you want. And no matter where I've worked—from the law firm to the trading floor, from the streets of Harlem to the halls of the Ford Foundation—I have always found that Texas Law prepared me for the task at hand. And I have come to more fully understand why the sunflower is our distinctive insignia.
The words in your program explain it this way: The sunflower belongs to a family with worldwide distribution. So, also, do lawyers. And as the sunflower always keeps its face turned to the sun, the lawyer turns to the light of justice.
These words have borne themselves out in my life, because of the way Texas Law prepared me. Texas Law prepared me to be a global citizen—a member of that family with worldwide distribution. Texas Law prepared me to work at the intersection of power, politics, and justice. And Texas Law prepared me to turn to the light of justice—and to fight for that justice.
After graduation, I went to New York to work at Cleary Gottlieb. Leaving Texas for New York was a big risk, but I knew that something extraordinary was in store. Like the title character in Lin-Manuel Miranda's hit Broadway musical Hamilton, as I went to New York in the summer of 1986 I thought: “In New York, you can be a new man.”
So I joined Cleary Gottlieb where I was surrounded by lawyers from all over the world, from every top school. They were among the best, anywhere. But Texas had prepared me. Texas equipped me to succeed, to be a global citizen.
Graduates: You, too, are world-class lawyers and global citizens. Because Texas Law produces more than just Texas lawyers, or Texas leaders. It produces lawyers and leaders who can change the world. And, today, the world desperately needs you.
After my time at Cleary Gottlieb, I went to work at the investment bank UBS. It was a big change. But, again, I was prepared—but not satisfied. Because while Texas Law had prepared me to succeed, it also imparted to me a desire to contribute to society—to turn to the light of justice.
That's when I saw the most startling thing in the early 1990s: The cover of The Economist magazine. Over a photo of a little boy, who looked like me when I was young, the cover line said: America’s Wasted Blacks.
As the article made clear, this young boy in Harlem—for a variety of reasons—didn't enjoy the same opportunities I had, be they Head Start, or Pell grants, or an incredible public education at a place like University of Texas. That article was a defining moment in my life.
I started volunteering for an organization called the Children's Storefront school. And when I realized that community development was my calling, I went at it with gusto.
I went to work for the Abyssinian Development Corporation in Harlem. It was the early 1990s—and Harlem was a very different place.
It was the height of the crack epidemic. Back then, you would walk through Harlem and see brownstones boarded up. You could see crack vials on the sidewalk and stoops. You could walk into the bodega and see mostly expired food. And more than the burned-out buildings, I saw the interplay of power, politics, and justice.
So I moved from my nice penthouse apartment in midtown to 120th Street. I saw how entrenched systems and structures continued to disenfranchise and disadvantage the people of Harlem. And I understood, more than ever, how advantaged I was because I had a law degree.
I understood the laws, and the levers of power. And I had a set of skills that most did not. These skills gave me—as they give you—the capacity to negotiate change, because as lawyers we can navigate the system.
So I put those skills to work, and started listening to the community to see what we could accomplish together. And with community input we did something pretty basic but desperately needed: We built Harlem's first full-service supermarket.
Getting the supermarket built was a major challenge, and is just one example of what lawyers are uniquely equipped to do at the intersection of power, politics, and justice—and how we can bring justice to those long denied it. Because while your degree may make you a doctor of laws, your Texas education makes you a seeker of justice.
My Texas education has also prepared me to be president of the Ford Foundation, where turning toward the light of justice means shining a spotlight on inequality in all of its forms.
But you can turn toward the light of justice in many other ways. Whether you are advocating in courtrooms or around conference tables, you can fight for justice. Whether you are on the ground floor of a start-up venture, or at a major NGO standing up for the rights of others, you can fight for justice.
You can fight for children in the slums of Brazil or the poor wards of Houston and Dallas. You can make justice a part of whatever you do—even if it's just giving free legal advice to your friends and family.
Because while this work for justice can happen anywhere—it is needed everywhere. And you, Texas law graduates—you are prepared to go wherever you are needed.
By now, you may have realized, I'm slightly obsessed with the musical Hamilton. I've seen it six times, including on opening night. My friends and partner are fatigued by my constant references, but I can't help myself.
I've been inspired by this young Alexander Hamilton, an ambitious immigrant who refuses to let opportunity slip away. And at a critical point, early in the musical, he says that he's not “throwing away his shot.”
It reminds me of how I felt when I was your age, and I'm sure it's how you feel today. Because for Hamilton the man, a major turning point in his life was when he became Hamilton the lawyer.
It prepared him for the trials and triumphs to come. It was his pathway to public service. And it is through the lens of the law that we see Hamilton's participation at the Constitutional Convention, his authorship of the Federalist Papers, his time at the Treasury Department.
And the lens of the law will serve you well, too—no matter what your calling may be. Texas Law has prepared you for anything.
So graduates: Do not stop. Do not throw away your shot; your shot at contributing to a world that's counting on you; your shot at working within systems of power to change them; your shot at delivering justice for those who need it most.
Congratulations, fellow UT alumni, on this moment filled with promise—a moment for which you've spent your lives preparing; a moment that signals your preparation for life.
Keep turning to that beautiful light of justice, wherever you find it shining.