(Editor‘s Note: The following is text of Chancellor Gordon Gee‘s
address, as prepared for delivery at the May 13, 2005, commencement
exercises.)
Ladies and gentlemen, dear graduates and families and friends: Happy
Friday the 13th! How are you supposed to wish someone “happy Friday the
13th”? “Happy discord and confusion and chaos”? “Here‘s to being a
little off-kilter, all day”?
But, indeed, what an auspicious occasion for holding a ceremony of
passage! What a way to train ourselves to look for the current of humor
in every situation, no matter how star-crossed or unbelievable it might
seem. What a way for us to train ourselves to work with the world as it
happens to be. What a way for us to train ourselves to use that slight
imbalance, that asymmetry, that cock-eyed quality, to create something
new.
In a way, this date is singularly appropriate and almost necessary. For
what a world, what a history has happened in the past four years. The
last time I addressed this class as one group, you were entering as
undergraduates, and I was promising your parents that I would keep you
safe ñ and one short month after that, New York and Washington, D.C.,
were attacked.
Four years of history is not a very long time at all, but that August
now seems forever ago. And whether you have spent the past four years
pursuing an undergraduate, graduate or professional degree, your time
at college has become a capsule of a history that is different from
anyone else‘s. At that moment in that September, the world as we
conceived of it was tipped off its axis, this country lost its assured
and trusting confidence, and the life of every American was divided
into “pre-” and “post-.”
But what was rent and torn on that day kept tearing, and,
unfortunately, our outlooks on the world have kept changing, far beyond
what our new situation required. So you graduate from Vanderbilt today
not only into a world that is split, but into a country that is
bitterly, woefully split.
And because of that reason, and because I am supposed to valedict you
into that fractured world, this speech has been a particularly
difficult one to write. And this speech will be a dangerous one to
give, because there is always the chance that someone who hears me will
think I speak from a perspective that is coded “red” or “blue.” But I
do not. I speak from a perspective that is humane, that is, I believe,
for the best interests of our civilization. This speech is neither a
“red” speech nor a “blue” speech, but I give it because I am so deeply
concerned with what I see on both sides, red and blue.
You know ñ surely you may have overheard because the volume of it is
deafening ñ that there is, in our present public discourse, such an
insane cacophony of voices which would capitalize on keeping this
culture imbalanced ñ to make it no longer one culture, but separate,
and several, which would be more than happy to get you righteously
riled up in return for your money and allegiance.
Those voices belong to politicians, profiteers and pundits, and they
are all too intent on polarizing the population of this country for
their own gain and their own desire to rule.
We are in a phase of history that is exceeding strange. And for better
or worse, this phase has been our behest to you; and whether you ever
would have chosen it or not, this class‘s special responsibility is to
rework what has been deliberately unworked.
What you have inherited by the stroke of fate which would have you at
university at exactly that moment in time, at this chaotic and
discordant phase in our history, is that now you are the ones whom it
falls upon to reknit our shared culture, to reweave it back into whole
cloth. It becomes your task to set things right, to find a new axis for
balance. And the way which you find to do that will be the way you show
the merit of your Vanderbilt diploma.
Vanderbilt is a special place, even among universities, because here we
gain the habit of treating perspectives that differ from our own with
honor, respect and civility. We dread the intellectual and
spiritual loss that would come if we did not accord dignity to the
viewpoints of others.
But such is not the case in our culture right now, and there are many
extreme advocacies that would have you swayed into habits of
confrontation. They would have you create a category of ideological
enemy, and they would have you develop the reflex of decisively
shutting down the voices of those who fit that category.
They would encourage you to let aggression and defensive triumphalism
become the rock rib of your relationships to others, of all your
political affiliations. Or they would have you succumb to the notion of
yourselves as a victim and hope that you would allow that notion to
figure into how you respond to all circumstances.
I have so much faith in your capabilities and your good sense, but the
zeitgeist is a forceful gale indeed. Do not let it erode the habits you
have learned. Please do not let yourself be blown off center. Do not
let yourself be used. Do not let yourself be a useful tool in someone
else‘s scheme for power and profit, for ratings or for influence.
Resist being a tool for those who would manipulate you to their own
ends. Please do not choose to capitalize on keeping this country out of
joint. For if you give in to these temptations, then your diploma, your
degree, might as well be valueless.
Our culture is currently caught up in the notion that if people are
convinced of their own correctness, their ugliest behavior and feelings
will be justified. But animus has little to recommend it in regard to
improving any situation.
Perhaps because Nashville is a capital city, we tend to be an intensely
political town. Even months after the election, I still see so many
bumper stickers, both for the victorious party and for the party that
is currently out of power. And although most of the stickers speak to
convictions that are important, none of them seem to me to give any
joy, because ‘In your face!‘ is not joy, and nor is its opposite,
principled obstinacy. The stickers I see speak out of a sense of pride
and a cocky supposition that perhaps they will be a bother to someone
else. And while such advertisements are a means of expression, there is
no chance of dialogue in them, only a brand identification.
The future of this nation, and of the world, are too important and
delicate to be encompassed by stickers and branding, or by a notion of
being on teams, and whose team prevails. The stakes are far too high
for this to be a game.
Consider, for a moment, this which I offer: that it may be possible for
two people who have conflicting viewpoints both to be right. Consider
that possibility for a moment. Because one of the most amazing gifts of
my work, one of the things that enthrall me and keep me in
universities, is the fact that I get to have so many different kinds of
friends. I have friends who are outrageously radical conservatives, and
I have some far-left pinko friends. I have friends who disagree with me
ñ including my wife! ñ on almost every issue, but I am so happy that I
get to hear their ideas because, over time, their views polish and
temper and refine my own. That would not be possible if I, or if they,
thought like a bumper sticker.
As hard as this is to believe, being correct can be even worse than
being wrong if my sense of rectitude and righteousness divides me from
others and makes me insensitive to them. What could be so terrifying
about relinquishing the right if the reward of my doing and being so is
the state of unity that arises from sensitivity to others?
Our culture needs to discover this: that being angry all the time can
dry out a person‘s heart. It can damage you, like stabbing yourself
through the stomach to hurt someone standing behind you. The Buddha
said, “If you knew what your anger was doing to you, you would shun it
like the worst of poisons.” Sustained animosity dries out and warps the
soul. Please do not entertain it, because it gives no happiness.
At Vanderbilt, you have learned the habit of doubting, of being
critical of everything. So if, after you leave here, you find yourself
starting to be worked up to a froth by agitators, apply the same
critical skill to your own anger. Ask yourself which of these is the
better part: the part of yourself that is so concerned with someone
else‘s being proven wrong in order for you to be proven right, or the
part of yourself that would rather have unity?
I suspect that the better part of you is simply exhausted and disgusted
ñ as I am, for oh, it wears me out ñ with the continual name calling
and diminution of others that has become so much a part of our public
discourse. Please, you can do something about that, and I do not expect
you to do it for me, but for yourself, to weave together the kind of
world you want to make.
As one who holds a Vanderbilt degree, you are not allowed to burn with
hatred that goes nowhere and that does no one any good, but only deals
severance and pain. As one who holds a Vanderbilt degree, you cannot
allow yourself the luxury of feeling negatively toward what you
perceive as external to your heart. As one who holds a Vanderbilt
degree, there cannot be an inside or outside to your heart, a “you” and
“I” ñ only a “we” and “us.”
Ladies and gentlemen, the good news is you do not even have to adapt or
change. You already are weavers; you already know how to be. All you
have to do is continue as you have done here, with a little extra
emphasis because, in an ideologically divided culture, the spirit can
get ragged more rapidly than it can at a university.
You may need to add emphasis to your practice, to draw support from
inside yourself. Buddhism postulates that there are attitudes of the
heart, stations of perception which, if we cultivate them, can help us
in our relationships in an imperfect world and with other imperfect
people. They are called “brahma viharas,” or the abodes of God. And the
most important one, in my view, is called, in Pali, “metta,” which
means “loving kindness.”
To direct “metta,” to direct a friendly, cooperative gentleness ñ
especially toward someone with whom we have experienced conflict, or
think we cannot forgive, or get over our fear of what they might do, or
may even resent brutally ñ is an incredible practice.
For example, instead of using my powers to rig the system against
former Slant editor David Barzelay so that he never graduates, I can
let him go freely about his business. For those of you who may not
know, David has been a perennial thorn in my side ñ by publicly
declaring me deceased, among other affronts ñ and has made my life more
delightful in the process. I am so grateful to have had him as an
annoyance. So I wish him well today!
Our own minds can formulate so much to overcome, but the results of
outwitting our justifications can be astonishing and transformative.
One of the best examples of “metta” occurred last year when Vanderbilt
Students for Life paired with Vanderbilt Feminists in order to educate
the campus population about the reproductive options our students have
available to them. They put aside their pride and their profound
philosophical differences, wiped their agendas away and, in the
process, helped to dispel for themselves some myths each group held
about the other.
Two of those participants are graduating today, from
the School of Engineering and the College of Arts and Science: Laura
Folse of Vanderbilt Students for Life and Katharyn Christian of
Vanderbilt Feminists. Our hats should go off to them. Their
accomplishment was a practice of “metta.” They came together to support
women in need, and their coming together for the Pregnancy Resource
Forum was an absolutely shining moment in the university‘s history.
Continue to defy category. Continue to surprise those who would put you
in a neat demographic. Be insistently curious. Be like Diana Ree, who
graduates today with a degree from Peabody: an officer in Vanderbilt
Hillel and an active member of our Interfaith Council; deeply rooted in
her own faith but intent on reaching out; deeply invested in teaching
others, but also as invested in learning from them.
Be like Joel Dillard, graduating today with a degree in chemistry, who
stood on the steps of Kirkland Hall and quoted at Vanderbilt‘s
administration scriptural passages of justice and mercy in service of
the living wage campaign. Defy category like that. Be brave and
unexpected like that. Be, like Joel and like his fellow activist
members of LIVE who are also graduating today ñ Jennifer Carlisle from
Arts and Science and Liza Barley from Blair ñ bees in peoples‘ bonnets,
but good natured, persistent and insistent on raising awareness.
Be like Freddie Ford, president of Sigma Chi, who two years ago rallied
his fraternity to participate in a program that critically analyzed how
media and advertising affect the self- and body-image of women. From
Freddie‘s encouragement, 30 members of Sigma Chi stepped out of their
comfort zone into deep dialogue and media analysis and emerged with a
more thorough and humane understanding of the women in their lives.
All of these students ñ and they are but examples of many others,
undergraduate, graduate and professional ñ reached across boundaries to
solve problems and to educate, and that might have been their greatest
success. And those efforts are what politics is, what community life is
and should be ñ not screaming talking heads, not the 24-hour recycling
and aggravation of scandal in order to produce ratings.
An active practice of “metta” involves the risk if not of being wrong,
at least of no longer being totally right. So many of our students are
practitioners of “metta” whether they are aware of it or not. And what
results from their cooperation and daring and their bravery is a campus
culture that is even more liberated and transformed than it was when
they arrived here.
These students I have named to you did not stereotype others ñ well,
maybe Jennifer Carlisle did when she dressed as a rat that was supposed
to be me! ñ but they continued to persist, to extend themselves to
others, never thinking that they could not shift points of view. And
they did, and they have.
I love commencements because they are a singular occasion to give a
last moment to Vanderbilt and a specific occasion to give voice to our
university‘s mission in the world and what it means. They give me a
chance to tell you how much I believe you are worthy of bearing on with
that mission.
At this point, you must be thinking, “He‘s hitting us over the head
with all this talk about a poisonous political atmosphere, and last
year‘s commencement speech was about Harry Potter!” But I have to take
that risk so that I can talk about Harry Potter to next year‘s
graduating class with a light heart, not feeling as though I am
abjuring my higher responsibility ñ consider this my Friday the 13th
gift to you!
Graduates, as you enter this divided culture as independent and
professionalized adults, please remember how blessed you have been to
have had a university education; to have had the opportunity to learn
the uniqueness and power of the other through a richness of dialogue;
to take just a minute to reflect before responding to a question. What
a kindness such habits are to others and to ourselves.
Being subject to the disciplines of thought at a university trains us
to learn to see when we are stuck in our own ways, when we cling so
closely to our precious opinions that we gag our own ability to think
clearly. Keep these disciplines of open mind and listening, but
humanize them, take them into your heart so that they are not only of
the mind but of the soul, not only how the mind processes but also how
the heart perceives.
When you catch yourself seething with frustration at the ideas and
beliefs of others, ask yourself what part of you is doing that and if
that is really the best part of what you have or of what you can offer
or of what you could be and what you know you are capable of becoming.
On this last day when I can address you all together, please remember
Vanderbilt‘s values of openness and civility. Please remember what this
university is an example of, what you have been an example of in your
time with us, what we have been able to accomplish here in our
relationships with one another.
Remember the times you were here that made you happiest, that made you
feel the best. They were not times when you were fighting. They were
times when your heart was at peace and you could look upon others with
forgiveness and be with them in ease. This kind of peace is the best
ideal of a university, and that you are able to practice it is the best
hope of those who supported you throughout your time here.
So please, for a moment, allow me to address the “others” you have
brought with you this day: your parents and your families, all your
friends and all who believe in you who have come on this day to share a
sympathetic joy in your attainment. Your joy today is theirs. They have
poured so much energy into bringing you to this campus, to this
diploma, to this day, that I do need to address them particularly.
Parents, family members: We have done our best to keep your young
people safe from harm. We have done our best to assist them on their
way to this bright morning. We have tried to do right by them and by
you by believing in them. And we do, and I do. All of the earnestness
of my speech comes out of the fact that I have witnessed their
capabilities. Their creativity and powers of combination impress me to
the point of astonishment. Over their time here at this university,
they have transformed the Vanderbilt community. Our culture will bear
their unique stamp for a long time. And now we turn to let them go.
As I have watched my own daughter Rebekah grow and mature and serve her
medical residency in Boston, I have grown to realize this much: that
like a university‘s students, our children do not just come for us.
They come for the community. They come through us, so that we may
prepare them to be conduits of love on earth. Every measure of love we
give them trains them to be generous with their own love. Every time we
help them, we train them to be ready to assist others who may also need
their help. And they will think in ways we may not expect or anticipate.
They are for others, not for us, and the joy that we may feel in this
realization may be a different joy than that to which we are
accustomed. But it is a more expansive joy, as wide as the blue May
sky. I give these graduates back to you, only so you can again give
them away, to be claimed by something bigger. Thank you for placing in
me and in Vanderbilt University your deepest trust that we would assist
them in their growth in a way that would be not only to their own
benefit, but to the benefit of all those who dwell in this world.
As our Senior Day speaker Shirin Ebadi has said, universities are the
home of those who have dedicated themselves to humanity. We are
international by necessity and by custom, and, as she has pointed out,
the connection we make with other institutions will always bring peace
forward ñ by our exchange of students and professors, by our
translation of books and languages, by our linking to each other over
the Internet, by our lighting a light so that all people may see the
road in front of them.
As you go into the world, you bear inside your heart the character of
this university, the character of all universities. The connection it
allows you to make with others is your inheritance.
At Vanderbilt, we practice consistently to have many friends of
different stripes, to weave and to braid and to unify, to make our
university as we would like the world to be. Keep this character. Keep
your light lit so that others can find their way. Be a weaver. Create a
new capability in this world. Be of community and for community, of the
next community you find and all others which you will encounter
thereafter.