"Thank you Mr. Badawi for that kind introduction.

In the name of God, Most Merciful, Most Compassionate,

Your Royal Highnesses, Excellencies, ladies and gentlemen,

My pleasure at being with you today is matched only by my happiness at being in Saudi Arabia – a country which has opened its heart to embrace the best of humanity. This is personified by your country’s leadership, your people, and your collective work and wisdom.

When I was a child, I was told a folktale about an old man planting seeds in the valley. His grandchild asked what he was doing. The old man said that he was planting trees. His grandchild was surprised, and said, “Trees take many years to grow! You will never taste their fruit.” But the old man said, “They planted and we ate, we plant so that you can eat.”

The obligation to plant well for posterity is a common thread linking humanity – which is why different versions of that story can be found in many cultures. There is grace and glory in the efforts we make to build a better world -- even when those investments sometimes take decades to bear fruit.

And I know it is hard, in the here and now, to imagine how we will look in retrospect – how future generations will view our generation and our stewardship of our time. But whether we are aware of it or not, we are planting today for tomorrow.

Humanity can be proud that, globally, we are planting the seeds of technological progress, with innovations from new vaccines to the digital revolution. Regionally, we in the Middle East are transforming as well – from elections, to educational reform, to greater gender equality. Right here in Jeddah, you cultivated an important new patch of ground with the election of women to the Chamber of Commerce board two years ago.

Today, we find the Saudi woman, the teacher and the caregiver, the doctor and the engineer, the academic and the advisor, the writer and the journalist.

This is the Arab woman we are proud of and the one many in the West do not know.

These are just a tiny sampling of countless impressive achievements.

And yet I feel that there is something crucially missing. Perhaps in our times we have become overly technocratic. We talk of political and economic reforms, of technological solutions, of security concerns. All of which are essential if we are to progress. But what about the language of the conscience and the speech of the heart, the values of acceptance, love, respect and peace? Humanity’s healing principles. Perhaps today they may seem like clichés…as grounds that we have already conquered a long time ago. That is not the case. I suggest that we get back to basics because the need for global healing is all too obvious.

Tomorrow’s landscape may not flourish as it should, because today, the soil is being polluted by violence, mistrust, and fear.

Poll after poll paints an alarming picture; the image of a Muslim in the imagination of the West is one of violence, fanaticism, and a conduit for fear. And the image of the West in the minds of Muslims is one of violence, arrogance and a conduit for suspicion.

Thus, at a time when technology has shrunk the world into a village, we find ourselves distrustful and divided. We prejudge others on the basis of labels instead of through personal experience, and with that we dehumanize those around us.

We know that the more we can foster contact, the more we can overcome fear.

But we need to understand that building acceptance is not just a job for one side. Citizens of both East and West must be willing to sit down with and listen to the other – and each of us must be accountable for what that dialogue reveals.

Americans, for example, must face up to the fact that negative sentiments among many Arabs stem not from lack of understanding of U.S. policy in our region, but because many Arabs and Muslims think much of the policy is unsound. No amount of spin can make this problem go away. If they want to win regional “hearts and minds”, U.S. policies must be balanced, just, and deliver peace not war.

At the same time, Muslims cannot complain that we are negatively stereotyped by the West, unless we ourselves address some of the factors behind those perceptions.

We are right to deplore Islamophobia, and the branding of Muslims as terrorists, but we must face up to the horrible truth that many of the worst terrorist attacks in recent years have been committed by people who claim to be acting in the name of Islam.

We are right to denounce Israeli violence against civilians in Palestine and Lebanon. We are right to decry abuses at Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib. But we have to stand in the face of the sectarian violence that is escalating in some of our countries.

We are right to question Western governments when their actions only make it easier for radicals to recruit new followers. But our moral authority depends on our willingness to reject the voices of extremism and violence in our midst.

And we are right to expect that the West do more to reach across the East-West divide, but our appeal would be more compelling if we were not divided ourselves. It is hard to insist the West should embrace us as neighbors in the global village, when across the Muslim world we are at war with ourselves, brother against brother – in Iraq, Palestine, Lebanon and Afghanistan.

I am a mother of four young children, Hussein, Iman, Salma, and little Hashem. Take a moment to think of the children in your hearts. Recite their names in your heads. Just here, in this room, we are parents and caregivers to thousands of children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews.
What kind of landscape, what kind of future, are we preparing for them? Can we say we are nurturing the seeds of hope? Are we really cultivating progress and peace?

We must turn the concerns we all carry inside for them into a collective sense of urgency and action. Asserting true Islam is the challenge of our time, and we are the ones who must meet it. It is easier to wait for someone else to step forward, but that someone else is waiting for us. The reins of our destiny are in our own hands. We must summon the courage to steer.

And I can think of no better source of inspiration than Jeddah – the gateway to Mecca, in the birthplace of Islam, on the soil where the roots of our faith took hold.

For many centuries, millions of Muslim pilgrims have come through Jeddah, joining across barriers of color, culture, language, and experience. They come for the Hajj, and to celebrate the values that lie at the heart of Islam. Mercy. Compassion. Humility. Charity. Tolerance. Peace.

Jeddah brings together the best of our heritage, and the promise of our future as well. For in this city – indeed, here in this room -- we see the contours of a better tomorrow, marked by prosperity, diversity, opportunity, and engagement with the world.

In Islam’s golden age, Arab civilization was open to the wisdom of others. Our ancestors welcomed new ideas from foreign lands, which they combined with their own expertise to push the boundaries of knowledge even farther.

So let us embrace the lessons from modern history’s greatest leaders for humanity – individuals whose courage and vision transformed and lifted their societies:

Mohandas Gandhi, who said, “You must be the change you want to see in the world.”

Martin Luther King, who said, “There comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but because Conscience tells him it is right.”

And let us not forget the great words of our own religion:

Verily never will Allah change the condition of a people until they change it themselves (within their own souls).

Today we must ask ourselves, where is that spirit in our region?

But more of us need to do more for us. Because change takes more than good ideas and good will. It takes people who are bold enough to act, people who know that good investments take time, people with vision and drive. Government officials have a crucial role to play – but they cannot do it alone. They need the energy, creativity, and commitment of people like you.

Together, we at this forum, and beyond, can start planting the seeds of a rich and bountiful orchard, an oasis in the desert, a place where all our children, from East and West, can find acceptance, love, respect, and peace.

The moment is ours. And we will succeed, if we take an old proverb to heart: “The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.”

Thank you very much."

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