Leymah Gboweee: 'Step out of the shadows', Barnard College - 2013

19 May 2013, Barnard College, New York, USA

Leymah GBowee is a peace activist and founder of Women of Liberia Mass Action for Peace. She helped bring an end to the civil war in her country in 2003.

Thank you.  Please have your seats.  Someone once told me, the kids in America are born with whistles in their bellies.  There is nowhere in the world that girls can scream like America.  Thank you, President Spar.  This is truly an honor.  President Spar, Provost Bell, Board Chair Caruso, Dean Hinkson, faculty, student body, special guests, proud parents, distinguished ladies and gentleman, I’m honored to be here today at your 2013 Commencement.  To God be the glory for another wonderful rainy day. 

My sisters sometimes say to me, I have some tendency that is a little bit leaning towards crazy. So, I read stuff.  People do not go on websites and read negative things except they have a little mental issue.  So, as I was preparing for this commencement, something took me to Barnard website.  And there was this article, “Why Leymah Gbowee Commencement Speaker?”  And then after reading part of the article, I usually would just skip through and go down to the comments.  Trust me, you all did well, as compared to some of the sites that I go on.  But one of the comments that I like, because this site is B-W-O-G, and it said, “How awesome,” that was the comment, “for a G-B-O-W-E-E, to be speaking at Barnard, on, and then we’re talking about her on this site, B-W-O-G.  So, if you switch it around, except for the W-E that is my last name, but you were very nice to me.

I have been asked to send you off with some words of wisdom.  I’ll do my best on the wisdom part.  Words you will definitely get.  I ask you graduates to kindly focus for a moment, forget the parties afterwards.  Forget the presents that are awaiting you out there, and just journey with me, briefly, on the term, “Step out of the shadows.”  And most times when I’m speaking at commencements or speaking with girls or women, I tend to put on something that will cause you – even if you forgot what I said, to remember me.  Unfortunately, today, I don’t have one of my big head gears that will make you remember me, but please try to remember my pretty 41-year-old face. And I’m donning and 18-year old hair style.  So if you forget anything I say, don’t forget, she had a hairstyle like her daughter. 

Many years ago, I met an old woman.  Her name was Krubo Pewee. She was quite poor, and lived in a shanty rundown home, but she had an air of confidence and independence.  She walked with her shoulders up.  Curiosity actually led me to seek this woman out.  Every time I visited her, I would leave her some cash for food and medication, pitying her condition.  She always hesitated taking the money from me.  I would have to urge her before she reached out to take. 

One day, after several months of visitation and friendship, I handed her some money, and she said, thank you, but no thanks.  She said, Leymah, I’m not one of those people to take money or to always take from people.  I like giving back when I take.  I’m a business woman.  I love to watch my money grow, and I love to serve people through my business.  If you want to do me a favor, give me a loan, so that I can restart my business.  I asked her how much do you want?  She said, 200 US dollars.  In Liberian money, that is about $14,000.  I took $250 and gave to her. 

Six months later, I went back to her tiny village.  I saw a large kiosk, like a shop, rice, vegetables, and other provisions.  I was shocked, but elated at the same time.  She was more talkative, more relaxed, and we went on chatting about different things.  As we talked, she asked about my children.  And I told her about the headache of children being far away in school, and having to send money from Africa to the US, and she said – I did that too.  Of course I was shocked.  You send money to the US?  She said, yes.  In the early 70s, my brother got a scholarship as an aircraft maintenance engineer from Liberia.  And this scholarship only paid his fees.  So, I had to send him money every month.  So, I used to go and do bank drafts.  Those were the days long before Western Unions or Money Grams.  We talked about different things, and she revealed to me that from that kiosk, the previous one she had was what she used to educate that engineer, an IT consultant, a professional nurse, a community activist, and many more children of her relatives, siblings, and her own children.

Again, I was shocked.  Here is this woman, poor, sad, living in a shanty home, talking about all of these great people that she had educated.  But as we continued the conversation, I said, but you’ve done well to do all of this, and she would not for one moment take any credit for educating those individuals. She referred to herself as a shadow.  A shadow, what the shadow does, according to her, is accompany you.  It is never active.  It doesn’t feed or clothe you.  I told myself, a concept of her role in these people’s lives was wrong, but who was I to argue with a 76-year-old woman? 

Shadow does nothing.  And as I drove away from that place, I kept thinking about how she referred to herself.  And it dawned on me that this is how all over the world, women think.  They do a lot of the work, but they never really take any credit for what they do.  Their roles in the success or the successes of all of the different things, they always try to keep in the shadows.  Growing up, most times as young women and as girls, regardless of where you come from we are socialized as women to be humble.  In very extreme cases, be seen and never heard.  In some cases, walk on tiptoes. 

For many years, I heard the phrase, “Act like a lady.”  To sum it all up, we are expected to live our lives in the shadows, but we are also told to contribute our quota to the growth and development of the world.  I have a four-year-old who is going on 55, and she constantly comes back from my parents’ house, and says, Momma, Grandma said, “Girls don’t jump up and down.” And then I say to her, “Mok, Momma says, jump up and down as much as you want!”

Grandma says, “Good girls should read their books and be quite.” And then I say, “Mok Momma says, good girls should read their books and tell the world what they’ve read.”

The contradictions of our lives as women, is confusing for me as an activist, sometimes.  Sometimes, it’s enraging, and other times, it’s a little bit entertaining.  A few months ago, I dared to speak up against the current regime.  One of my uncles is a minister in this current regime.  And he called my dad, and this is the entertaining part.  Why can’t you control your daughter?  And my dad said to him, “She’s your niece. You go and control her.”  But between the two men who was supposed to be controlling me, no one dare come to control me.

We are told, for those of us who frequent international conferences and meetings, this is the decade of the women.  This is followed by local and international proclamations on the rights of women and girls.  These proclamations, in my opinion, are made to get us to put our best foot forward; get our brains working, and other instances get our well-manicured nails dirty.  However, we’ve seen also many examples of the reality of our situation.  For in this country, women can join the military, but until recently, could not engage in active combat.  My interpretation was that we are not to be put up front.  Our roles are to be positioned, uniquely, in the shadows.  In many other part of the world, including my own country Liberia, it is a struggle to convince fathers, and sometimes mothers that their daughters are worthy of being in school, and not in the shadows of the home. 

The story of Malala took the world by storm.  This is another example.  In college, many of you spend four years, especially in a women's college, listening to the rhetoric of the world, rhetoric that we hear at all international meetings about women's roles, responsibilities, and rights.  The real world, ladies, will teach you as it is still teaching me that it will never be handed down to you on flower beds of ease as my mother called it, or on a silver platter. 

You have to challenge, in most cases, keep your hand up, in other cases, and in some cases, break protocol if you are to step out of the shadows.  You were also taught some of the stories of great women, women who have left great legacies, Harriet Tubman enslaved, mildly epileptic, Black, and a woman.  Those were all qualities, and reasons for her to remain in the shadows.  She refused to do so.  She engaged one cause after the other. 

Susan B. Anthony, women's rights activist, freedom fighter, she refused to be in the shadows.  She spoke up in her lifetime about the inequalities between men and women, and freedom for those enslaved.  Her earlier fear of public speaking never hindered her from stepping out of the shadows.  These are just two examples of women of old in your context.  Today there are many more that we could cite. The lessons these women have taught, and are still teaching us is that we must learn, decide, and fight to break out of the shadows; break out about your pains. 

I just came back from Libya where I heard horrid stories, horrible stories about rape and abuse during the revolution, and I was told the story of this young lady who was brutally raped.  Her brothers locked her up, and because for them, her pain is to be kept in the shadows of their home, she broke free; ran away.  They tracked her down, and killed her because she was to remain in the shadows.  We went to this huge conference, and one of those young women who have also been in the shadows stepped out, and said, I want to speak about my rape.  She came, covered in black, standing in that room that I called 98.2% of men, and told her story of how she was kept in a room with 80 other women raped daily, abused daily. The men in that room hung their head.  I stood up, and applauded her because she refused to stay in the shadows of her pains.

Don't stay in the shadows.  Refuse to stay in the shadow.  Break out about your dreams.  Break out about your passion that you have for changing the world.  Break out about how you feel about things.  Never hold back.  Refuse to be in the shadows as you step out into this life. Don't be shy no matter how crazy it seems to you.  That crazy idea may just be the solution for some crazy global or local problem. 

From 1989 until 2003, the women of Liberia were also in the shadows.  However, in 2003, tired of being used, and misused by over-drug militias, we stepped out to front the demons of militarism and violence.  We refused to allow our bodies to be used anymore.  We knew we would die, but we refused to allow our legacies to be “they died without trying.”  We stepped out of the darkness of victimization, and into the light of activism and peace. 

We changed the global perception of Liberia being The Land of Child Soldiers to being The Land of Women in White. Today, the peace that we strived for in Liberia has been translated into many empowerment, and refusal to be seen, and not heard. Community women are demanding their rights, demanding justice for perpetrators of crimes against women, and demanding the provisions of basic social services.  We, as women of Liberia, are also demanding recognition for our contributions to the growth and development of our nation.  

Sheryl Sandberg, a good friend, and someone who I stand behind because she came ahead of me to Barnard writes in her book, Lean In, that women should step out, and unashamedly claim their spaces in their professional career striving to be out and on top.  This, my dear ladies, can only happen if you step out of the shadows.  I received a t-shirt once that read, "Good girls never make history."  I love it because it encourages me to remain in the light, and never step back into the shadows. 

So, I started with the story of Krubo Peewee in August of 2013, one of those she educated died, the aviation engineer.  I accompanied her to the family meeting planning the burial.  The entire time no one acknowledged her, or recognized her.  She sat in the back of the meeting sobbing quietly still hiding in the shadows somewhat hopeful that someone will recognize the role she played in this man's life.  It never happened. 

On the day of the funeral, I went along with her.  We sat in the church, and one-after-the-other people came, and paid tribute, and attributed his successes to one thing or the other; never the poor woman in the shanty run-down house.  Finally, the pastor announced, if there were no more tributes, they will continue with the other aspects of the program.  I was sitting, and screaming in my head, go for it, Krubo!  Stand up.  Say something.  Step out of the shadows. 

And, as if she could hear my mental scream, she stood up, straightened her shoulders, and walked up to the podium.  Here lies a man I saw so much ability in.  I live my life through him.  I did not go to school because our parents married me off early.  And, because I could make money, I sent him to school, and she went on to talk about her brother, and everything she did.  Afterwards, she turned to his children and his widow, and she said to them, “It's always good to recognize someone, anyone, regardless of their physical appearance when they have contributed to your success.”  As she walked out of the church, I followed and went, yes!

Distinguished graduates, as you journey through life, refuse to hide.  Each and every one of you has unique skills and qualities that the world needs. Being in the shadow will continue to keep our dark world, darker.  If all of you decide, or decided that this life you will step out, and do exactly what we need to do, you'll make the world a better place.  Like Krubo Peewee, you may be forced to step out of the shadows.  No matter how you decide to do so, always remember that stepping out of the shadows will ensure, your stepping out, will ensure that some girl will also find the strength to step out.

Many years ago, I made that decision. Four children, dirt broke, dirt poor, only two underwear, until today, I am traumatized, so I buy underwear like a crazy person. I have to say that.  Dirt poor, I went back to school, and I sat in my college classroom for three months, and never said a word.  Every time someone raised their hand, and said something, I said to myself, I could have said it better. 

On this fateful day, I got this philosophy assignment, and I put my all into that assignment, went back, and presented my papers, psychology; not philosophy, went back, presented my paper to my professor, and when he brought it, I had an F.  I looked at the paper, and something was telling me step out of the shadows.  As long as you remain in the shadows, you will continue to receive F.  I sat there, looked at that paper, looked, and thought, and looked, and thought, and mustered the courage; mustered the bravery.  After class, walked up to the professor sweating like a goat during wintertime, sweating, really sweating profusely, shaking like a leaf, and I said to him, “Sir, you miss-graded my paper.”

He looked at me with a stern face, and said, because this is my first time speaking to this man in three months, “Are you sure”?  And, I said, “Yes.”  I feel because I have never spoken up in class, you give me an F; you give me an F without reading my paper.  And then, he took it away from me, and said, if, and only in Africa the professor will do that, if you're telling a lie, you will be in trouble with me, and the only thing that rang in my head, he who is down, fear no fall.  He went back, and brought that paper on Monday, and I got an A+.

He saw the name, and never heard the voice, and thought that name is equivalent to F.  As you step out, please, you're more than F.  You're more than D.  You're more than C.  You're even more than B.  I tell my children the alphabet starts from A, and that's what God has put in every woman in this world.  You are an A.  Refuse to be in the shadows.  Because as you remain in the shadows, someone will miss-grade you, miss, or underpay you, misuse, abuse you.  Refuse to remain in the shadow.  Step out of the shadow.

And you decide to step out of the shadow, just in case some father, brother, sister, mother, or former professor tries to tell you that a girl has never done this before, remind them that a woman came all the way from Africa to tell us, the world is upside down.  Things are not what they used to be before.  The Black man is one of the best golfers.  

White boys are playing basketball very well.  Two women are president of Africa, and a White man and a Black man and his family now lives in The White House.

Step out of the shadows, and be the best God created you to be.  Congratulations, students.  Thank you, parents.  Well done, faculty.  God bless us all.  Thank you.

Ellen Johnson Sirleaf: 'If your dreams do not scare you, they are not big enough', Harvard - 2011

26 May 2011, Harvard, Massachessetts, USA

Ellen Johnson Sirleaf is the current President of Liberia. She is the first woman to be elected Head of State in Africa.

President Drew Gilpin Faust, members of the Harvard Board of Overseers, members of the Harvard Corporation, faculty, staff and students, fellow alumni, members of the graduating Class of 2011, parents, family and friends, distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen, friends:

I am honored not only to be the 360th Commencement speaker at my alma mater, but to do so in the year Harvard University celebrates 375 years of preparing minds as the oldest institution of higher learning in America. Thank you for the invitation and congratulations to you, Dr. Faust, the first female president of Harvard! It is a great privilege to share in Harvard’s distinguished and storied history. Harvard has produced presidents, prime ministers, a United Nations secretary-general, leaders in business, government, and the church. But more than anything, Harvard has produced the men and women on whose talent our societies function — the leaders in law, health, business, government, design, education, spirituality, and thought.

An event four decades ago put me on the path that has led me to where I am today. I participated, as a junior official of Liberia’s Department of Treasury, in a national development conference sponsored by our National Planning Council and a team of Harvard advisers working with Liberia. My remarks, which challenged the status quo, landed me in my first political trouble. The head of the Harvard team, recognizing, in a closed society, the potential danger I faced, facilitated the process that enabled me to become a Mason Fellow at the Kennedy School of Government. The Mason Program provided me with the opportunity to study a diversified curriculum for a master’s degree in public administration. Perhaps more importantly, in terms of preparation for leadership, the program enabled us to learn and interact with other Fellows and classmates who represented current and potential leaders from all continents.

I engaged, thrilled to be among the world’s best minds, yet overwhelmed by the reality of being a part of the world’s most prestigious institution of learning. As a result, I did things that I should have done, like studying hard, going to the stacks to do the research for the many papers and for better knowledge of the history of my country. I notice a few blank stares  — evidence of the generation gap — so let me explain: the stacks contained books, which people used to write, and other people used to read, before Google Scholar was created. I also did things that I should not have done, like exposing myself to frostbite when I joined students much younger than I to travel by bus to Washington, D.C., to demonstrate against U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War.

It is difficult to imagine achieving all that I have, without the opportunity to study at Harvard. It is, therefore, for me a profound honor to be counted as an alumna. I salute my fellow graduates who share that rich heritage of academic excellence and the pursuit of truth.

In preparation for this Address, I was pleasantly surprised to learn how far back Liberia’s connection to Harvard goes. The establishment of the Liberia College (now the University of Liberia) in 1862, the second-oldest institution of higher learning in West Africa, was led and funded by the Trustees of Donations for Education in Liberia. Simon Greenleaf, the Harvard College law professor who drafted Liberia’s Independence Constitution of 1847, was the founder and  president of the Trustees of Donations for Education in Liberia.

The first Liberian graduate of Harvard did so in 1920, and since then there has been a steady trail of Liberians to Cambridge. Most of them returned home to pursue successful careers.

Thank you, Harvard, and thank you to the many Mason Program professors, dead and alive, for the compliments you paid when my papers and interventions were top rate, and for the patience you showed when I struggled with quantitative analysis.

The self-confidence, sometimes called arrogance, that comes from being a Harvard graduate can also lead one down a dangerous path. It did for me. One year after my return from Cambridge, I was at it again, in a Commencement Address at my high school alma mater. I questioned the government’s failure to address long-standing inequalities in the society. This forced me into exile and a staff position at the World Bank. Other similar events would follow in a life of in and out of country, in and out of jail, in and out of professional service. There were times when I thought death was near, and times when the burden of standing tall by one’s conviction seemed only to result in failure. But through it all, my experience sends a strong message that failure is just as important as success.

Today I stand proud, as the first woman president of my country, Liberia. This has allowed me to lead the processes of change, change needed to address a long-standing environment characterized by awesome challenges: a collapsed economy, huge domestic and external debt arrears, dysfunctional institutions, destroyed infrastructure, poor regional and international relationships, and social capital destroyed by the scourge of war.

After election, I moved quickly in mobilizing our team, sought support from partners, and tackled the challenges. In five years, we formulated the laws and policies and strategies for growth and development. We removed the international sanctions on our primary exports; introduced and made public a cash-based budget; increased revenue by over 400 percent; and mobilized foreign direct investment worth 16 times the size of the economy when I assumed office. We built a small and professional army and coast guard, and moved the economy from negative growth to average around 6 percent. We have virtually eliminated a $4.9 billion external debt, settled a large portion of international institutional debt, as well as domestic arrears and suppliers’ credit. We restored electricity and pipe-borne water, lacking in the capital for two decades; reconstructed two modern universities and rural referral hospitals; constructed or reconstructed roads, bridges, schools, training institutions, local government facilities, and courts throughout the country; established and strengthened the institutional pillars of integrity; decentralized education by establishing community colleges; brought back the Peace Corps; and mobilized financial and technical resources from U.S. foundations, sororities, and individuals for support of programs aimed at the education of girls, the empowerment of adolescent youth, and improved working conditions for market women.

Nevertheless, the challenges for sustained growth and development remain awesome. Our stability is threatened by the thousands of returnees from U.S. prisons and regional refugee camps, the bulk of whom are lacking in technical skills. Our peace is threatened by the challenging neighborhood where we live: two of our three neighbors have either experienced, or narrowly avoided, civil war in the past year, and we patiently host their refugees, since not even a decade ago it was they who hosted so many of us. Implementation of our economic development agenda is constrained by low implementation and absorptive capacity, which means that we are not constrained by funding alone. Plans to enhance performance in governance move slower than desired due to long-standing institutional decay and a corrupted value system of dishonesty and dependency. The development of infrastructure is constrained by the high capital cost of restoration, brought about by the lack of maintenance and exacerbated by wanton destruction over two decades of conflict.

Yet, today, we are proud that young Liberian children are back in school, preparing themselves to play a productive part in the new Liberian society. Our seven-year-olds do not hear guns and do not have to run. They can smile again. We can thus say with confidence that we have moved our war-torn nation from turmoil to peace, from disaster to development, from dismay to hope. And it was the Liberian women who fought the final battle for peace, who came, their number and conviction the only things greater than their diversity, to demonstrate for the end to our civil war. I am, therefore, proud to stand before you, humbled by the success in representing the aspirations and expectations of Liberian women, African women, and, I dare to say, women worldwide.

Today I stand equally proud, as the first woman president of our African continent, a continent that has embraced the process of change and transformation. I am proud that Liberia became a beacon of hope in Africa. With few notable exceptions, Africa is no longer a continent of countries with corrupt big men who rule with iron fists. It is no longer the Dark Continent in continual economic free fall, wallowing in debt, poverty and disease.

When he addressed the Ghanaian Parliament in 2009, President Barack Obama reminded the people of Africa that it would no longer be the great men of the past who would transform the continent. The future of all of our countries is in the hands of the young people, people like you, Obama said, “brimming with talent and energy and hope, who can claim the future that so many in previous generations never realized.”

While many challenges persist, times have changed and the world you enter today, graduates of the Class of 2011, is much more accountable than the one we faced. At the beginning of this year, 17 elections were scheduled across our continent. In 1989, there were three democracies in sub-Saharan Africa; by 2008, there were 23. That is progress. This is a significant improvement from the days when violent overthrows were the default means of transition. A clear example stands out in West Africa. Although they did not get as much focus as postelection violence in Côte d’Ivoire, Niger and Guinea proved exemplary where the military oversaw democratic elections, turned power over to the civilian government, and returned to the barracks. In the case of Côte d’Ivoire, the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) and the African Union recognized a nonincumbent as the legitimate winner. That, again, is progress.

We also see evidence of this progress in the African economy, which has been growing at more than 5 percent over the past decade. A recent African Development Bank report measured the rise of the middle class in Africa, totaling 313 million out of 1 billion Africans. The countries experiencing exceptional growth in their middle class include Ghana, Mozambique, Mali, Tanzania, Cape Verde, Botswana, Burkina Faso, and Rwanda. This middle class is changing the face of Africa. We are moving away from dependence on extractive industries and agriculture. There is a rising consumer class that helped brace Africa during the global economic crisis. This is emblematic not only of the progress in purchasing power in Africa, but in the progress that means you can still put food on the table for your family when the rains fail, that you can engage intelligently in political debates and hold your leaders accountable.

Instability and years of conflict in Liberia have pushed us to the bottom of this table in terms of the size of our middle class. We stubbornly refuse to accept this and are preparing a new development agenda that aims, through proper allocation of our natural resources, to graduate Liberia from development assistance in 10 years, and propels us to a middle-income country by 2030.

As Africa charts its economic path, we are taking advantage of South-South partnerships as China, India, and Brazil, not to mention Nigeria and Ghana, become more significant partners in our economic expansion. Their experience is closer to ours, and our cooperation going forward will be crucial.

Even as the African renaissance appears on course, we must recognize that some of this progress is driven by the same forces of commodity demand that led to temporary gains four decades ago. We are the source of raw materials, now to India and China as well as the Western world, yet we generate the least profits from these exhaustible resources. Moreover, we remain vulnerable to external price shocks and receive very little transfer of technology, or growth in related industries. Until we begin to make products to sell, build better road and rail systems, and improve the easy movement of people and goods across our borders; until we supply the engineers and geologists and marketers of our resources, our middle class will remain stunted.

In spite of these needs, and the fundamental economics of resource extraction, everywhere I travel in Africa, I see signs of a continent rising. We are producing more, manufacturing more, trading more, and cooperating more. Words like accountability, transparency, and reform are not just the calling card of some foreign donor; they are the words that must adjudicate closed-door decisions for those governments in Africa that seek re-election. There is a growing consensus on these issues, giving me great optimism about the future of Africa’s common economy and democratic prospects.

I am excited about Africa’s future, and more so about Liberia’s future. In a few months, the Liberian people will have the opportunity to select their political leadership. This means that Liberia will know a second peaceful democratic transition in six years: this in a country that was riven by political rivalries, tribalism, and civil war for two decades. It is, nonetheless, with cautious optimism that we approach this event and the future. Anxieties remain because we know that as impressive as Liberia’s rebirth has been, our achievements remain fragile and reversible.

I have no personal anxieties, however, for in a decades-long career in public service, I have learned many lessons that I can share with you today. In my journey, I have come to value hope and resilience. As an actor in Liberia’s history as it has unfolded over the last 40 years, I have seen these characteristics come full circle. I was there in the early ’70s, a decade after the independence movement had swept across Africa. Back then, the future appeared full of endless possibilities. Then across the continent there was a gradual descent into militarism, sectarian violence, and divisive ethnic politics. But I have been blessed with the opportunity to watch and participate as not only my nation but other African countries rise out of the ashes of war. With cautious optimism, it is my hope that I will continue to lead Liberia to consolidate and realize the dividends of peace.

As much as I have lived and experienced, what you graduates will know and do will far exceed it. History, it seems, is speeding up. After graduation, you leave the relative security, predictability, and certainty of these walls for a world full of uncertainties. Across the globe, entire societies are being transformed, new identities forged, and national stories retold. People your age across the world are becoming increasingly vocal about how they are governed and by whom. Old templates of control have been overturned as States struggle internally with issues about national character and destiny. People who, heretofore, had no say in those conversations are asserting themselves and taking a place at the table, with or without an invitation.

Ten years ago, information about the tragic events of September 11 came to us mainly through traditional media: radio, television, and … cnn.com. There was no Facebook, no YouTube, no Twitter and all the other social networking sites that my grandchildren now take for granted. In the intervening 10 years, young people like yourselves have gone on to use technology to improve the overall quality of life and created wealth. In those 10 years, the world has become smaller and more connected. The complex financial instruments of 10 years ago would seem quaint to the hedge funds and investment banks of today. In those 10 years, our markets and economies have become more connected and adjusted faster.

Just six months ago, the Tunisian revolution began, leading rapidly and inexorably to fundamental change across North Africa and the Middle East. Could this have happened without digital social media, or without heightened correlation of food prices across time and space? Could this have happened just 10 years ago, with the same preconditions but a different degree of connectivity? Can you imagine what the next 10 years will bring? The next 50?

In the time even before Friendster succumbed to Facebook, our world went through phases of transformation, and Harvard graduates, students, faculty, and commencement speakers have been key actors, writers, and chroniclers of those changes. In 1947, U.S. Secretary of State George Marshall stood in this very Yard before a graduating class such as this one to announce the plan to salvage Europe after the devastation caused by the Second World War:

He began, “I need not tell you, gentlemen, (I don’t know where the ladies were) that the world situation is very serious. But to speak more seriously” — Marshall said as he went on to advocate the well-known Marshall Plan. In time, we saw a rebounded Europe, and the subsequent rise of East Asia, have been the catalyzing forces behind Africa’s own recent progress.

When President John F. Kennedy, another Harvard graduate, spoke to this audience in 1956 as the junior senator from Massachusetts, he analyzed the tension between politicians and intellectuals. Of the politicians, Kennedy said, “We need both the technical judgment and the disinterested viewpoint of the scholar, to prevent us from becoming imprisoned by our own slogans.” In newly democratic societies, where ballots are marked with distinctive icons as well as names since many voters remain illiterate, the danger of sloganeering political populism is only greater, and can lead down the road of war, not just bad policy choices. Kennedy, of course, would go on to launch the Peace Corps, which has impacted the lives of millions throughout the world by bringing Americans across the ocean, teaching students and training teachers, and making our world a smaller place.

Ralph Ellison, speaking at the 1974 Commencement, told the graduates and alumni: “Let us not be dismayed, let us not lose faith simply because the correctives we have set in motion, and you have set in motion, took a long time.” Ellison believed that despite the challenge, the chance for national regeneration was there.

In the more recent past, Bill Gates, a famous Harvard attendee, has made our world smaller still by having all of us speak the same dialect, by connecting us electronically and opening doors that just one generation ago seemed to belong to the realm of science fiction. Today, because of him, we are closer to living in a global village.

With the election of Harvard graduate Barack Obama to the presidency of the United States, the face of American politics has been altered for good. In the sea change that his election represents, let me remind you, America, that Liberia has you beat on one score: We elected our first female president, perhaps 11 years before the United States might do so.

Today, I share more than a Harvard background with you. In a way, this is also a commencement year for me. Just as you end one journey today and begin the next, so too do I in November. As my first term as the president of Liberia comes to an end, I will be standing for re-election. The person who claims to be the strongest opposition contender is a Harvard graduate. But I want you to know that the incumbent, who is also a Harvard graduate, is determined to win. The relationship between Harvard and Liberia is thus secured and in good hands!

Harvard Graduates, Class of 2011: I urge you to be fearless about the future. Just because something has not been done yet, doesn’t mean it can’t be. I was never deterred from running for president just because there had never been any females elected head of state in Africa. Simply because political leadership in Liberia had always been a “boys’ club” didn’t mean it was right, and I was not deterred. Today, an unprecedented number of women hold leadership positions in our country, and we intend to increase that number.

As you approach your future, there will be ample opportunity to become jaded and cynical, but I urge you to resist cynicism — the world is still a beautiful place and change is possible. As I have noted here today, my path to the presidency was never straightforward or guaranteed. Prison, death threats, and exile provided every reason to quit, to forget about the dream, yet I persisted, convinced that my country and people are so much better than our recent history indicates. Looking back on my life, I have come to appreciate its difficult moments. I believe I am a better leader, a better person with a richer appreciation for the present because of my past.

The size of your dreams must always exceed your current capacity to achieve them. If your dreams do not scare you, they are not big enough. If you start off with a small dream, you may not have much left when it is fulfilled because along the way, life will task your dreams and make demands on you. I am, however, bullish about the future of our world because of you. We share one defining characteristic that prepares us to transform our world — we are all Harvard University graduates. When we add to that the traditional quests for excellence for which we are known, there is no telling what we can accomplish.

Go forth and embrace a future that awaits you.

I thank you.