Barack Obama: “This is your generation’s world to shape”, Virtual Commencement speech - 2020

17 May 2020

Hi, everybody. Aniyah, thank you for that beautiful introduction. I could not be prouder of everything you’ve done in your time with the Obama Foundation.

And of course, I couldn’t be prouder of all of you in the graduating Class of 2020 — as well as the teachers, and the coaches, and most of all, parents and family who guided have you along the way.

Now graduating is a big achievement under any circumstances. Some of you have had to overcome serious obstacles along the way, whether it was an illness, or a parent losing a job, or living in a neighborhood where people too often count you out. Along with the usual challenges of growing up, all of you have had to deal with the added pressures of social media, reports of school shootings, and the specter of climate change. And then, just as you’re about to celebrate having made it through, just as you’ve been looking forward to proms and senior nights, graduation ceremonies — and, let’s face it, a whole bunch of parties — the world is turned upside down by a global pandemic. And as much as I’m sure you love your parents, I’ll bet that being stuck at home with them and playing board games or watching Tiger King on TV is not exactly how you envisioned the last few months of your senior year.

Now I’ll be honest with you — the disappointments of missing a live graduation — those will pass pretty quick. I don’t remember much from my own high school graduation. I know that not having to sit there and listen to a commencement speaker isn’t all that bad — mine usually go on way too long. Also, not that many people look great in those caps, especially if you have big ears like me. And you’ll have plenty of time to catch up with your friends once the immediate public health crisis is over.

But what remains true is that your graduation marks your passage into adulthood — the time when you begin to take charge of your own life. It’s when you get to decide what’s important to you: the kind of career you want to pursue. Who you want to build a family with. The values you want to live by. And given the current state of the world, that may be kind of scary.

If you’d planned on going away for college, getting dropped off at campus in the fall — that’s no longer a given. If you were planning to work while going to school, finding that first job is going to be tougher. Even families that are relatively well-off are dealing with massive uncertainty. Those who were struggling before — they’re hanging on by a thread.

All of which means that you’re going to have to grow up faster than some generations. This pandemic has shaken up the status quo and laid bare a lot of our country’s deep-seated problems — from massive economic inequality to ongoing racial disparities to a lack of basic health care for people who need it. It’s woken a lot of young people up to the fact that the old ways of doing things just don’t work; that it doesn’t matter how much money you make if everyone around you is hungry and sick; and that our society and our democracy only work when we think not just about ourselves, but about each other.

It’s also pulled the curtain back on another hard truth, something that we all have to eventually accept once our childhood comes to an end. All those adults that you used to think were in charge and knew what they were doing? Turns out that they don’t have all the answers. A lot of them aren’t even asking the right questions. So, if the world’s going to get better, it going to be up to you.

That realization may be kind of intimidating. But I hope it’s also inspiring. With all the challenges this country faces right now, nobody can tell you “no, you’re too young to understand” or “this is how it’s always been done.” Because with so much uncertainty, with everything suddenly up for grabs, this is your generation’s world to shape.

Since I’m one of the old guys, I won’t tell you what to do with this power that rests in your hands. But I’ll leave you with three quick pieces of advice.

First, don’t be afraid. America’s gone through tough times before — slavery, civil war, famine, disease, the Great Depression and 9/11. And each time we came out stronger, usually because a new generation, young people like you, learned from past mistakes and figured out how to make things better.

Second, do what you think is right. Doing what feels good, what’s convenient, what’s easy — that’s how little kids think. Unfortunately, a lot of so-called grown-ups, including some with fancy titles and important jobs, still think that way — which is why things are so screwed up.

I hope that instead, you decide to ground yourself in values that last, like honesty, hard work, responsibility, fairness, generosity, respect for others. You won’t get it right every time, you’ll make mistakes like we all do. But if you listen to the truth that’s inside yourself, even when it’s hard, even when its inconvenient, people will notice. They’ll gravitate towards you. And you’ll be part of the solution instead of part of the problem.

And finally, build a community. No one does big things by themselves. Right now, when people are scared, it’s easy to be cynical and say let me just look out for myself, or my family, or people who look or think or pray like me. But if we’re going to get through these difficult times; if we’re going to create a world where everybody has the opportunity to find a job, and afford college; if we’re going to save the environment and defeat future pandemics, then we’re going to have to do it together. So be alive to one another’s struggles. Stand up for one another’s rights. Leave behind all the old ways of thinking that divide us — sexism, racial prejudice, status, greed — and set the world on a different path.

When you need help, Michelle and I have made it the mission of our Foundation to give young people like you the skills and support to lead in your own communities, and to connect you with other young leaders around the country and around the globe.

But the truth is that you don’t need us to tell you what to do.

Because in so many ways, you’ve already started to lead.

Congratulations, Class of 2020. Keep making us proud.

Barack Obama: 'The ultimate irony of faith is that it necessarily admits doubt,', Notre Dame University - 2009

17 May 2009, South Bend, Indiana, USA

Well, first of all, congratulations, Class of 2009. (Applause.) Congratulations to all the parents, the cousins — (applause) — the aunts, the uncles — all the people who helped to bring you to the point that you are here today. Thank you so much to Father Jenkins for that extraordinary introduction, even though you said what I want to say much more elegantly. (Laughter.) You are doing an extraordinary job as president of this extraordinary institution. (Applause.) Your continued and courageous — and contagious — commitment to honest, thoughtful dialogue is an inspiration to us all. (Applause.)

Good afternoon. To Father Hesburgh, to Notre Dame trustees, to faculty, to family: I am honored to be here today. (Applause.) And I am grateful to all of you for allowing me to be a part of your graduation.

And I also want to thank you for the honorary degree that I received. I know it has not been without controversy. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but these honorary degrees are apparently pretty hard to come by. (Laughter.) So far I’m only 1 for 2 as President. (Laughter and applause.) Father Hesburgh is 150 for 150. (Laughter and applause.) I guess that’s better. (Laughter.) So, Father Ted, after the ceremony, maybe you can give me some pointers to boost my average.

I also want to congratulate the Class of 2009 for all your accomplishments. And since this is Notre Dame —

AUDIENCE MEMBER: Abortion is murder! Stop killing children!

AUDIENCE: Booo!

THE PRESIDENT: That’s all right. And since —

AUDIENCE: We are ND! We are ND!

AUDIENCE: Yes, we can! Yes, we can!

THE PRESIDENT: We’re fine, everybody. We’re following Brennan’s adage that we don’t do things easily. (Laughter.) We’re not going to shy away from things that are uncomfortable sometimes. (Applause.)

Now, since this is Notre Dame I think we should talk not only about your accomplishments in the classroom, but also in the competitive arena. (Laughter.) No, don’t worry, I’m not going to talk about that. (Laughter.) We all know about this university’s proud and storied football team, but I also hear that Notre Dame holds the largest outdoor 5-on-5 basketball tournament in the world — Bookstore Basketball. (Applause.)

Now this excites me. (Laughter.) I want to congratulate the winners of this year’s tournament, a team by the name of “Hallelujah Holla Back.” (Laughter and applause.) Congratulations. Well done. Though I have to say, I am personally disappointed that the “Barack O’Ballers” did not pull it out this year. (Laughter.) So next year, if you need a 6’2″ forward with a decent jumper, you know where I live. (Laughter and applause.)

Every one of you should be proud of what you have achieved at this institution. One hundred and sixty-three classes of Notre Dame graduates have sat where you sit today. Some were here during years that simply rolled into the next without much notice or fanfare — periods of relative peace and prosperity that required little by way of sacrifice or struggle.

You, however, are not getting off that easy. You have a different deal. Your class has come of age at a moment of great consequence for our nation and for the world — a rare inflection point in history where the size and scope of the challenges before us require that we remake our world to renew its promise; that we align our deepest values and commitments to the demands of a new age. It’s a privilege and a responsibility afforded to few generations — and a task that you’re now called to fulfill.

This generation, your generation is the one that must find a path back to prosperity and decide how we respond to a global economy that left millions behind even before the most recent crisis hit — an economy where greed and short-term thinking were too often rewarded at the expense of fairness, and diligence, and an honest day’s work. (Applause.)

Your generation must decide how to save God’s creation from a changing climate that threatens to destroy it. Your generation must seek peace at a time when there are those who will stop at nothing to do us harm, and when weapons in the hands of a few can destroy the many. And we must find a way to reconcile our ever-shrinking world with its ever-growing diversity — diversity of thought, diversity of culture, and diversity of belief.

In short, we must find a way to live together as one human family. (Applause.)

And it’s this last challenge that I’d like to talk about today, despite the fact that Father John stole all my best lines. (Laughter.) For the major threats we face in the 21st century — whether it’s global recession or violent extremism; the spread of nuclear weapons or pandemic disease — these things do not discriminate. They do not recognize borders. They do not see color. They do not target specific ethnic groups.

Moreover, no one person, or religion, or nation can meet these challenges alone. Our very survival has never required greater cooperation and greater understanding among all people from all places than at this moment in history.

Unfortunately, finding that common ground — recognizing that our fates are tied up, as Dr. King said, in a “single garment of destiny” — is not easy. And part of the problem, of course, lies in the imperfections of man — our selfishness, our pride, our stubbornness, our acquisitiveness, our insecurities, our egos; all the cruelties large and small that those of us in the Christian tradition understand to be rooted in original sin. We too often seek advantage over others. We cling to outworn prejudice and fear those who are unfamiliar. Too many of us view life only through the lens of immediate self-interest and crass materialism; in which the world is necessarily a zero-sum game. The strong too often dominate the weak, and too many of those with wealth and with power find all manner of justification for their own privilege in the face of poverty and injustice. And so, for all our technology and scientific advances, we see here in this country and around the globe violence and want and strife that would seem sadly familiar to those in ancient times.

We know these things; and hopefully one of the benefits of the wonderful education that you’ve received here at Notre Dame is that you’ve had time to consider these wrongs in the world; perhaps recognized impulses in yourself that you want to leave behind. You’ve grown determined, each in your own way, to right them. And yet, one of the vexing things for those of us interested in promoting greater understanding and cooperation among people is the discovery that even bringing together persons of good will, bringing together men and women of principle and purpose — even accomplishing that can be difficult.

The soldier and the lawyer may both love this country with equal passion, and yet reach very different conclusions on the specific steps needed to protect us from harm. The gay activist and the evangelical pastor may both deplore the ravages of HIV/AIDS, but find themselves unable to bridge the cultural divide that might unite their efforts. Those who speak out against stem cell research may be rooted in an admirable conviction about the sacredness of life, but so are the parents of a child with juvenile diabetes who are convinced that their son’s or daughter’s hardships can be relieved. (Applause.)

The question, then — the question then is how do we work through these conflicts? Is it possible for us to join hands in common effort? As citizens of a vibrant and varied democracy, how do we engage in vigorous debate? How does each of us remain firm in our principles, and fight for what we consider right, without, as Father John said, demonetizing those with just as strongly held convictions on the other side?
And of course, nowhere do these questions come up more powerfully than on the issue of abortion.

As I considered the controversy surrounding my visit here, I was reminded of an encounter I had during my Senate campaign, one that I describe in a book I wrote called “The Audacity of Hope.” A few days after I won the Democratic nomination, I received an e-mail from a doctor who told me that while he voted for me in the Illinois primary, he had a serious concern that might prevent him from voting for me in the general election. He described himself as a Christian who was strongly pro-life — but that was not what was preventing him potentially from voting for me.

What bothered the doctor was an entry that my campaign staff had posted on my website — an entry that said I would fight “right-wing ideologues who want to take away a woman’s right to choose.” The doctor said he had assumed I was a reasonable person, he supported my policy initiatives to help the poor and to lift up our educational system, but that if I truly believed that every pro-life individual was simply an ideologue who wanted to inflict suffering on women, then I was not very reasonable. He wrote, “I do not ask at this point that you oppose abortion, only that you speak about this issue in fair-minded words.” Fair-minded words.

After I read the doctor’s letter, I wrote back to him and I thanked him. And I didn’t change my underlying position, but I did tell my staff to change the words on my website. And I said a prayer that night that I might extend the same presumption of good faith to others that the doctor had extended to me. Because when we do that — when we open up our hearts and our minds to those who may not think precisely like we do or believe precisely what we believe — that’s when we discover at least the possibility of common ground. That’s when we begin to say, “Maybe we won’t agree on abortion, but we can still agree that this heart-wrenching decision for any woman is not made casually, it has both moral and spiritual dimensions.”

So let us work together to reduce the number of women seeking abortions, let’s reduce unintended pregnancies. (Applause.) Let’s make adoption more available. (Applause.) Let’s provide care and support for women who do carry their children to term. (Applause.) Let’s honor the conscience of those who disagree with abortion, and draft a sensible conscience clause, and make sure that all of our health care policies are grounded not only in sound science, but also in clear ethics, as well as respect for the equality of women.” Those are things we can do. (Applause.)

Now, understand — understand, Class of 2009, I do not suggest that the debate surrounding abortion can or should go away. Because no matter how much we may want to fudge it — indeed, while we know that the views of most Americans on the subject are complex and even contradictory — the fact is that at some level, the views of the two camps are irreconcilable. Each side will continue to make its case to the public with passion and conviction. But surely we can do so without reducing those with differing views to caricature.

Open hearts. Open minds. Fair-minded words. It’s a way of life that has always been the Notre Dame tradition. (Applause.) Father Hesburgh has long spoken of this institution as both a lighthouse and a crossroads. A lighthouse that stands apart, shining with the wisdom of the Catholic tradition, while the crossroads is where “¼differences of culture and religion and conviction can co-exist with friendship, civility, hospitality, and especially love.” And I want to join him and Father John in saying how inspired I am by the maturity and responsibility with which this class has approached the debate surrounding today’s ceremony. You are an example of what Notre Dame is about. (Applause.)

This tradition of cooperation and understanding is one that I learned in my own life many years ago — also with the help of the Catholic Church.

You see, I was not raised in a particularly religious household, but my mother instilled in me a sense of service and empathy that eventually led me to become a community organizer after I graduated college. And a group of Catholic churches in Chicago helped fund an organization known as the Developing Communities Project, and we worked to lift up South Side neighborhoods that had been devastated when the local steel plant closed.

And it was quite an eclectic crew — Catholic and Protestant churches, Jewish and African American organizers, working-class black, white, and Hispanic residents — all of us with different experiences, all of us with different beliefs. But all of us learned to work side by side because all of us saw in these neighborhoods other human beings who needed our help — to find jobs and improve schools. We were bound together in the service of others.

And something else happened during the time I spent in these neighborhoods — perhaps because the church folks I worked with were so welcoming and understanding; perhaps because they invited me to their services and sang with me from their hymnals; perhaps because I was really broke and they fed me. (Laughter.) Perhaps because I witnessed all of the good works their faith inspired them to perform, I found myself drawn not just to the work with the church; I was drawn to be in the church. It was through this service that I was brought to Christ.

And at the time, Cardinal Joseph Bernardin was the Archbishop of Chicago. (Applause.) For those of you too young to have known him or known of him, he was a kind and good and wise man. A saintly man. I can still remember him speaking at one of the first organizing meetings I attended on the South Side. He stood as both a lighthouse and a crossroads — unafraid to speak his mind on moral issues ranging from poverty and AIDS and abortion to the death penalty and nuclear war. And yet, he was congenial and gentle in his persuasion, always trying to bring people together, always trying to find common ground. Just before he died, a reporter asked Cardinal Bernardin about this approach to his ministry. And he said, “You can’t really get on with preaching the Gospel until you’ve touched hearts and minds.”

My heart and mind were touched by him. They were touched by the words and deeds of the men and women I worked alongside in parishes across Chicago. And I’d like to think that we touched the hearts and minds of the neighborhood families whose lives we helped change. For this, I believe, is our highest calling.

Now, you, Class of 2009, are about to enter the next phase of your life at a time of great uncertainty. You’ll be called to help restore a free market that’s also fair to all who are willing to work. You’ll be called to seek new sources of energy that can save our planet; to give future generations the same chance that you had to receive an extraordinary education. And whether as a person drawn to public service, or simply someone who insists on being an active citizen, you will be exposed to more opinions and ideas broadcast through more means of communication than ever existed before. You’ll hear talking heads scream on cable, and you’ll read blogs that claim definitive knowledge, and you will watch politicians pretend they know what they’re talking about. (Laughter.) Occasionally, you may have the great fortune of actually seeing important issues debated by people who do know what they’re talking about — by well-intentioned people with brilliant minds and mastery of the facts. In fact, I suspect that some of you will be among those brightest stars.

And in this world of competing claims about what is right and what is true, have confidence in the values with which you’ve been raised and educated. Be unafraid to speak your mind when those values are at stake. Hold firm to your faith and allow it to guide you on your journey. In other words, stand as a lighthouse.

But remember, too, that you can be a crossroads. Remember, too, that the ultimate irony of faith is that it necessarily admits doubt. It’s the belief in things not seen. It’s beyond our capacity as human beings to know with certainty what God has planned for us or what He asks of us. And those of us who believe must trust that His wisdom is greater than our own.

And this doubt should not push us away our faith. But it should humble us. It should temper our passions, cause us to be wary of too much self-righteousness. It should compel us to remain open and curious and eager to continue the spiritual and moral debate that began for so many of you within the walls of Notre Dame. And within our vast democracy, this doubt should remind us even as we cling to our faith to persuade through reason, through an appeal whenever we can to universal rather than parochial principles, and most of all through an abiding example of good works and charity and kindness and service that moves hearts and minds.

For if there is one law that we can be most certain of, it is the law that binds people of all faiths and no faith together. It’s no coincidence that it exists in Christianity and Judaism; in Islam and Hinduism; in Buddhism and humanism. It is, of course, the Golden Rule — the call to treat one another as we wish to be treated. The call to love. The call to serve. To do what we can to make a difference in the lives of those with whom we share the same brief moment on this Earth.

So many of you at Notre Dame — by the last count, upwards of 80 percent — have lived this law of love through the service you’ve performed at schools and hospitals; international relief agencies and local charities. Brennan is just one example of what your class has accomplished. That’s incredibly impressive, a powerful testament to this institution. (Applause.)

Now you must carry the tradition forward. Make it a way of life. Because when you serve, it doesn’t just improve your community, it makes you a part of your community. It breaks down walls. It fosters cooperation. And when that happens — when people set aside their differences, even for a moment, to work in common effort toward a common goal; when they struggle together, and sacrifice together, and learn from one another — then all things are possible.

After all, I stand here today, as President and as an African American, on the 55th anniversary of the day that the Supreme Court handed down the decision in Brown v. Board of Education. Now, Brown was of course the first major step in dismantling the “separate but equal” doctrine, but it would take a number of years and a nationwide movement to fully realize the dream of civil rights for all of God’s children. There were freedom rides and lunch counters and Billy clubs, and there was also a Civil Rights Commission appointed by President Eisenhower. It was the 12 resolutions recommended by this commission that would ultimately become law in the Civil Rights Act of 1964.
There were six members of this commission. It included five whites and one African American; Democrats and Republicans; two Southern governors, the dean of a Southern law school, a Midwestern university president, and your own Father Ted Hesburgh, President of Notre Dame. (Applause.) So they worked for two years, and at times, President Eisenhower had to intervene personally since no hotel or restaurant in the South would serve the black and white members of the commission together. And finally, when they reached an impasse in Louisiana, Father Ted flew them all to Notre Dame’s retreat in Land O’Lakes, Wisconsin — (applause) — where they eventually overcame their differences and hammered out a final deal.

And years later, President Eisenhower asked Father Ted how on Earth he was able to broker an agreement between men of such different backgrounds and beliefs. And Father Ted simply said that during their first dinner in Wisconsin, they discovered they were all fishermen. (Laughter.) And so he quickly readied a boat for a twilight trip out on the lake. They fished, and they talked, and they changed the course of history.

I will not pretend that the challenges we face will be easy, or that the answers will come quickly, or that all our differences and divisions will fade happily away — because life is not that simple. It never has been.

But as you leave here today, remember the lessons of Cardinal Bernardin, of Father Hesburgh, of movements for change both large and small. Remember that each of us, endowed with the dignity possessed by all children of God, has the grace to recognize ourselves in one another; to understand that we all seek the same love of family, the same fulfillment of a life well lived. Remember that in the end, in some way we are all fishermen.

If nothing else, that knowledge should give us faith that through our collective labor, and God’s providence, and our willingness to shoulder each other’s burdens, America will continue on its precious journey towards that more perfect union. Congratulations, Class of 2009. May God bless you, and may God bless the United States of America. (Applause.)

Jim Yong Kim: 'We lived, as you can tell, the classic All-American, Korean family grows up in a small town in Iowa story', NU 2013

6 May 2013, Northeastern University, USA

Members of the Class of 2013,

Ladies and gentlemen

It’s a great privilege to be here today with all of you, especially the members of the Class of 2013 and your families and friends. You should be very proud.  This is a day for memories, a day to savor.  A day, also, to join in honoring those who two weeks ago responded so courageously in the face of tragedy-including Northeastern students and staff who provided critical care and support to victims of the attack.

It’s truly an honor to stand before you just at the moment when you're leaving this great University and about to step into your life, the script of which is yet to be written.  Throughout my years in the academy, I’ve loved commencements because they embody those rare moments in our modern culture when ritual, tradition and a bit of pageantry brighten our lives. 

But I’m sure many of you are more than a little concerned about what the future will bring, and I just want to say to you today that not only is your future uncertain, but the overwhelming likelihood is that it’s far more uncertain than you think.  And you know what, that’s a good thing.  A recent study by a group of psychologists in the journal Science found that people are extremely poor at predicting their futures. The study showed that, for example, a typical 20-year-old woman’s predictions for life changes in the next decade of her life were not nearly as radical as the typical 30-year-old woman’s recollection of how much she had changed in her 20s. In other words, 20-year-olds had little idea of just how much they would change over the next ten years.  And this sort of discrepancy persisted among respondents all the way into their 60s.

This study’s findings are essentially the story of my life.  In fact, even before I was born, given the obstacles my parents faced, I would never have predicted that I would, in fact, be born.  My father spent his childhood in North Korea and, at the age of 19, escaped across the border into South Korea, leaving his parents, his brothers and sisters, his entire extended family -- everything he had ever known -- behind. He had no money.  Still, he managed to enroll in the Seoul National University Dental School and became a dentist.  He told me stories about how he had so little money he often could only afford to buy lunch from the illegal noodle vendors on the street. Once when he was eating his contraband ramyun next to the vendor, police came and chased after the vendors and their customers.  But while he ran, my father kept eating his noodles because he knew he wouldn’t be able to afford another bowl.

My mother was born in China near Shanghai among a small community of Korean expatriates.  After returning to Korea, on a day she will never forget toward the end of the Korean War, her mother -- my grandmother -- went outside to hang the laundry and never returned, probably either kidnapped or killed by North Korean soldiers.  At one point during the war, with the battles closing in around her, at the age of 17, my mother became a refugee and literally walked, with her younger sister on her back, for 200 miles to escape the fighting.  Luckily, she was able to resume her schooling in a tent in the southern city of Masan.  She was an excellent student and with great good luck she received a scholarship from a secret women’s society in the United States and was able to enroll as a freshman at Morehead State College in Nashville, Tennessee. 

Through almost unthinkably divergent and unlikely paths, my parents ended up meeting  through mutual friends who had gathered in New York City during the Christmas holidays along with the few hundred Korean students who were living in the United States at that time.  They fell in love, married in New York, where my older brother was born, then returned to Korea.

I was born in Seoul and when I was five, my family moved back to the United States and we eventually settled in Muscatine, Iowa. My father opened his dental practice, and my mother set to work on her PhD in philosophy at the University of Iowa.  In the late 60’s, influenced by my mother’s passion for social justice, we watched the civil rights and anti-war movements unfold from our living room in Muscatine.  We lived, as you can tell, the classic All-American, Korean family grows up in a small town in Iowa story.  We fully embraced our lives in the heartland of this great country. 

As you might imagine, there weren’t a lot of Asians in Iowa in the 60’s and 70’s but happily, one of the most popular shows at that time was Kung Fu, the story of a former Shaolin priest, half-Chinese, half-American, who comes to the United States to find his American father.  So while we were outsiders in Iowa in a profound sense, at least the bully kids left us alone, because they thought all Asians knew Kung Fu - even my sister, and she was 3 when we moved to Iowa.   I played quarterback on the high school football team -- but don’t be too impressed, we had the longest losing streak in the nation by the time I was done with my senior year.  Years and years went by without a single victory.  It was said that grandfathers of my teammates had contributed to the multi-generational streak.

After high school, I eventually ended up at Brown University, and I remember one particular day vividly.  My father picked me up at the airport after I flew back to Muscatine from Providence, and when we were driving home, he asked me, “So what are you thinking of studying?”

I told him I was excited about philosophy and political science.

I thought I could make a difference in the world and I was thinking of going into politics.

My father put on the blinker, pulled off the road, and turned off the car.

He turned to me in the back seat.

“Look,” he said, “once you finish your medical residency, you can do anything you want.”

You see, my father knew all about uncertainty.  He knew that it’s impossible to be sure about where you might end up in life.  And he worried that his own success might have deprived his children of the opportunity to understand deeply the meaning of running away from the noodle police while, of course, finishing your noodles.  He wanted me to have a skill and he wanted me to butt my head up against the joy but also the hard reality of finishing medical school, finishing residency and caring for patients in life-or-death situations.   

I’m so grateful to my father. 

So far I’ve told you that life is uncertain, but you already knew that.  What I really want you to know is that you have abundant tools to face that uncertainty and to lead an extraordinary life, even beyond your wildest dreams.

Roy Baumeister is a psychologist who has devoted his career to studying the qualities in human beings that lead them to achieve what he calls “positive outcomes.”  In this fascinating field, researchers have found that two traits are most consistently associated with success: intelligence and willpower.  In Baumeister’s book entitled Willpower, we learn that efforts to permanently increase intelligence have failed, but people can in fact improve their willpower.  Baumeister and his colleagues have shown that taking certain actions to improve willpower is the surest way to a more successful life.  Moreover, they’ve shown that willpower is like a muscle that can be built with practice, but also, if you don’t actively exercise your willpower, your capacity to do so will atrophy just like your stomach muscles if you stop doing sit-ups.  They’ve even learned that because willpower is associated with a certain part of your brain, maintaining glucose levels in your blood to feed that part of your brain is critical for sustaining your willpower!

Looked at from another angle, a group of researchers has shown that, more than talent, practice is what determines mastery over any given skill or ability.  Malcolm Gladwell, in his book Outliers, popularized an important body of work that showed that the path to mastery requires 10,000 hours of practice.  Books with titles like “talent is overrated” have been published to make the point.   

Now I want you to know that there’s really good news here, especially for Northeastern graduates.  By graduating today, you’ve shown your families and the world that you have plenty of IQ points to accomplish anything you set out to achieve.  Willpower, discipline and focus -- the essential qualities for success that everyone needs -- are in your hands to develop and build.  As Baumeister shows in his book, you can indeed go to the willpower gym and come out mentally buff, ready to take on the world. 

Now about the 10,000 hours it takes to achieve mastery.  Well, because you’ve studied here at Northeastern, you’ve got a head start.  My own estimate is that, through your cooperative education in which you’ve received both classroom knowledge and practical knowledge, you all deserve at least a couple of thousand hours of discount off the standard 10,000.  Good for you and congratulations!

But in addition to thinking about uncertainty and willpower, there’s one more thing I want you to try to will yourself to remember today.  I want you to think about how you can use time effectively and for good in this complex world. 

Back in Iowa, my mother used to read to me the writings of Martin Luther King, Jr. In Dr. King’s “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” he writes about the need to understand the urgency of the present.  He recounts an experience with a white moderate -- an ally of the civil rights movement -- who wrote to him saying that he, Dr. King, was in too great a hurry and that “the lessons of Christ take time to come to earth.”  African Americans, the moderate argued, would eventually -- eventually -- be granted their full civil rights.

Dr. King responded, and I quote: "Such an attitude stems from a tragic misconception of time and a strangely irrational notion that there is something in the flow of time that will inevitably cure all ills.  Actually, time itself is neutral.  It can be used destructively or constructively.  More and more I feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than the people of goodwill.  We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people."  End quote.

With all the willpower I can muster, I try to bring the sense of urgency in Dr. King’s words to my work today.  I do this with an understanding that I still have no idea of what the future may bring.  After all, I had no idea that I would not only get my medical degree but also a PhD in anthropology at an institution known as that "small technical school" just up Huntington Ave from the historic legendary campus of Northeastern University.  I had no idea that I would help found an organization, Partners in Health, with my colleague Paul Farmer and others and eventually work in 10 countries around the world.  I had no idea that my experience at Partners In Health would lead to my taking charge of the World Health Organization’s HIV/AIDS efforts and to starting a campaign to treat 3 million people by the year 2005.  And with only minimal experience in academic administration, I was given the enormous honor of becoming  President of Dartmouth College.  Finally, completely out of the blue, last year President Obama asked me to stand as a candidate to lead the World Bank Group. 

Always with some trepidation, I embraced these completely unexpected opportunities, and now I find myself in one of the most interesting jobs in the world.  The World Bank Group is an extraordinary organization, founded in the 1940’s to rebuild Europe after World War II.  Over the 66 years of its existence, it has evolved into the premier development institution in the world. 

Just two weeks ago, the World Bank Group governing body endorsed a target to end extreme poverty by 2030 -- just 17 years from now.  Our Governors, who are made up of the Ministers of Finance and Development of 188 member countries, also endorsed a goal to boost shared prosperity, so that the bottom 40% of income earners in our member states can share in economic growth.  Our Governors also emphasized that prosperity must be shared with future generations, which means that we will be leaders in tackling climate change, because we know that climate change has the potential to wipe out many of the development gains of the past decades and plunge people back into poverty. 

By setting such bold targets for our organization and setting an expiration date for extreme poverty in the world, our Governors have given us the gift of focus and urgency.  We will now use time to drive forward what we hope will be a signal achievement in human history. 

In closing, my challenge to you is this: set bold goals, deliberately and consciously build your willpower, and use your time well.  You are so fortunate.  Northeastern’s co-op program and emphasis on experiential learning make this one of the most innovative educational models in the world today.  With co-op options now in more than 90 countries, in all types of organizations, this University has given you an unexcelled preparation for global citizenship.  As countries around the world, including the United States, search for ways to overhaul higher education, they’re looking to Northeastern’s example.  Through your hard work in these past four years, you’ve acquired something exceptional: the foundations for critical and self-critical thinking, joined to the practical skills to solve tough problems in the real world.

These are extraordinary qualifications.  They give you power -- and responsibility.

Like my father on the streets of Seoul -- though in a different way -- you face a world of uncertainty.  Don’t fear that uncertainty.  Embrace it.  Use it.  Uncertainty means that nothing is predetermined.  Uncertainty means that the future is yours to shape -- with the force of your will, the force of your intellect, and the force of your compassion.  Uncertainty is freedom. Take that freedom and run with it.  And please don’t forget to eat some noodles as you go.  You’ll need the glucose to feed your impressive well-toned willpower.

Thank you very much, and congratulations to the graduating class.