“I fear there are some people in the audience who don’t want
to hear what I have to say today. But I appreciate your forbearance in this
small act of liberty.
I’m a reporter so I won’t bury the lead. Your country needs
you. The country that has given you so much is calling you, the Class of 2025.
The country needs you, and it needs you today. As a reporter, I have learned to
respect opinions. Reasonable people can differ about the life of our country.
America works well when we listen to those with whom we disagree and when we
listen and when we have common ground and we compromise. And one thing we can
all agree on—one thing at least—is that America is at her best when everyone is
included.
To move forward, we debate, not demonize. We discuss, not
destroy. But in this moment—this moment, this morning—our sacred rule of law is
under attack. Journalism is under attack. Universities are under attack.
Freedom of speech is under attack. An insidious fear is reaching through our
schools, our businesses, our homes and into our private thoughts. The fear to
speak. In America? If our government is—in Lincoln’s words—“of the people, by
the people and for the people”—then why are we afraid to speak?
The Wake Forest Class of 1861 did not choose their time of
calling. The Class of 1941 did not choose. The Class of 1968 did not choose.
History chose them. And now history is calling you, the Class of 2025. You may
not feel prepared, but you are. You are not descended of fearful people. You
brought your values to school with you and now Wake Forest has trained you to
seek the truth, to find the meaning of life.
Let me tell you briefly about three people I have recently
met who discovered the meaning of their lives in moments of crisis not unlike
what we have today.
Volodymyr Zelenskyy, president of Ukraine, spent his entire
career as an entertainer on television. His first elected office was president
of Ukraine. And three years ago, the Russian army came at him from three
directions. He had a decision to make. And so he reached for the most lethal
weapon in the Ukranian arsenal: his cell phone.
He walked out of front of the presidential offices in Kyiv
and made a video selfie. He told his people, “I’m still here and your army is
still here, and we are going to fight.” He galvanized 44 million people
instantly. Today, three years later, he is all that stands between a murderous
dictator in Russia and the rest of free Europe. I asked him, “Where did that
come from?” And he said, “Well, you look in the mirror and you ask, ‘Who are
you’”?
Nadia Marad, a woman whom we at 60 Minutes found
in a refugee camp in Iraq. Her family was murdered by ISIS and she had been
sold for money into slavery. We convinced her to tell her story on 60
Minutes, which she did and she found her voice. Then she began to write,
and then she began to speak about the crimes that women suffer in war. And a
few years later, this young woman who we had found in a refugee camp won the
Nobel Peace Prize.
Who are you?
Finally, Dr. Samer Attar, an orthopedic surgeon in Chicago
and a professor of surgery at Northwestern who volunteers to do surgery in war
zones. In Gaza. In Ukraine. In To save lives of innocent people by using
whatever meager supplies he has at hand. I asked him, “Where does this come
from?” He told me, “It’s not much, but it beats burying your head in fear and
ignorance.”
Who are you?
What is the meaning of life?
Today, great universities are threatened with ruin. So what
did President Wente and Provost Gillespie do? They spoke out. They joined other
institutions signing the call for constructive engagement, a declaration of the
relationship between government and higher education. It reads in part,
“Institutions of higher education share a commitment to serve as centers of
open inquiry where, in their pursuit of truth, faculty, students, and staff are
free to exchange ideas and opinions across a full range of viewpoints without
fear of retribution, censorship, or deportation.”
Who are you? What does this make Wake Forest in this moment?
Well, I think we know.
Did you hear that phrase in the Declaration? “Pursuit of
truth?” Why attack universities? Why attack journalism? Because ignorance works
for power.
First, make the truth seekers live in fear. Sue the
journalists. For nothing. Then send masked agents to abduct a college student,
a writer of her college paper who wrote an editorial supporting Palestinian
rights, and send her to a prison in Louisiana and charge her with nothing.
Then, move to destroy law firms that stand up for the rights of others.
With that done, power can rewrite history. With grotesque,
false narratives, they can make heroes criminals and criminals heroes. And they
can change the definition of the words we use to describe reality.
“Diversity” is now described as “illegal.” “Equity” is to be
shunned. “Inclusion” is a dirty word. This is an old playbook, my friends.
There is nothing new in this. George Orwell – who we met on the street in
London – in 1949, he warned of what he called “new speak.” He understood that
ignorance works for power.
But it is ignorance that you have repudiated every single
day here at Wake Forest University. Who are you? I think we know.
Can just speaking the truth actually work? Well, consider
this day. This day. May 19. May 19, 1963. Martin Luther
King Jr.’s “Letter from Birmingham Jail” was published for the first time. In
that letter, Dr. King says, “The first thing that has to be done in the pursuit
of justice is collecting the facts.”
Power was telling him in a jail cell, “Do not speak the
truth because power will crush you.”
But consider that just months before that letter was
published, Wake Forest University became the first major private institution of
higher education in the South to integrate. In 1962.
The year after Dr. King’s letter –1964 – the Civil Rights
Act is passed. And the year after that – 1965 – the Voting Rights Act is
passed. Now today both of those are under attack. But can the truth win? My
friends, nothing else does. It may be a long road, but the truth is coming.
Did you hear the other phrase in the declaration that was
signed by President Wente and Provost Gillespie? “Without fear.”
That does not mean there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s an
affirmation that you know who you are. That you know what you stand for. And
that you know in the end – the long end – the Constitution will defend you even
in the face of fearsome times.
In the words of one of your former Wake Forest professors:
‘You may write me down in history with your bitter, twisted
lies.
You may tread me into the very dirt, but like dust, I’ll
rise.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear, I rise.
Into a daybreak that’s wonderfully clear, I rise.
Bringing the gifts my ancestors gave me, I am the dream and
the hope of the slave.
I rise.
I rise.
I rise.’
The poet Maya Angelou taught at Wake Forest. She saw the
fear that power sought to impose, yet in her famous phrase, she still knew why
the caged bird sings.
This university, old and wise, has seen worse. It has
overcome existential threats before to our country. You are not alone. A legion
has gone before you. And now it is the Class of 2025 that is called in another
extreme time.
Will you permit me another word of advice? I think this is
how I created at least one astronomer.
Do not settle. You only get one pass at this. This world is
going to tell you no a thousand times, but listen to the song in your heart. If
they can’t hear it, that’s on them and not on you.
In the 1980s, I was rejected by CBS News over and over and
over again over the years. They told me at one point, “Please stop applying.”
They really did. And at the time, I thought “What’s wrong with these people?”
They couldn’t hear the song in my heart. Maybe they were smarter. Every time I
was rejected, I got better. Maybe that was the plan. But I finally made them
hear the music in my heart.
You only lose if you quit. Do not settle.
What is the meaning of life? Who are you? You are the
educated. You are the compassionate. You are the fierce defenders of democracy,
the seekers of truth, the vanguards against ignorance. You are millions strong
across our land.
You might be sorry that you were picked by history for this
role. But maybe that was the plan. Hard times are going to make you better and
stronger. In a few minutes, when that diploma hits your hand, it’s not a piece
of paper you’re holding. We’re handing you a baton. Run with it.
Why am I here today? I’m 50 years farther down the trail
than you are, and I have doubled back this morning to tell you the one thing I
have learned from Volodymyr Zelenskyy and Nadia Marad and Samer Attar and a
thousand others: In a moment like this, when our country is in peril, don’t ask
the meaning of life. Life is asking, “What’s the meaning of
you?”
With great admiration for your achievements and with
confidence that you will rise to this occasion, I thank you very humbly for the
honor of being with you.
Thank you very much.”