In the next few weeks, you will encounter all sorts of moon-landing hoopla. So she wants to make sure that every one of you as well equipped with precisely engineered conversation deflectors. That way, when people start talking on and on about NASA and Houston and the great vision of President Kennedy, you can steer the conversation right back to MIT.
If you listen carefully to our commencement speaker lecture, you’ll know how to answer what’s coming next because I’m going to give you one final little prep quiz. I’ll read the question, and you fill in the blank. And please, make it loud. And to the parents and grandparents, texting them the answer is not allowed.
Question one:
In 1961, NASA realized that the moon landing required the invention of a computer-guidance system that was miniaturized, foolproof, and far more powerful than any the world had ever seen. So NASA did not call Harvard. NASA called –
MIT.
I know you would be good at this.
Question two:
The first person to walk on the moon was a man, but at MIT, among the very first programmers hired for the Apollo project was not a man but a –
Woman.
Yes, a woman. You got it. Her name is Margaret Hamilton. She played a key role in developing the software that made the moon landing possible. And by the way, Margaret Hamilton was also one of the first to argue that computer programming deserved as much respect as computer hardware. So she insisted on describing her work with a brand-new term, software engineering.
OK, just one more.
But there’s even more to strength than muscle, smarts and character. For the last few years, the air has been filled with studies, surveys, and books reporting a growing “fragility” among American young people, a decreasing capability to handle even modest stress or setbacks without seeking some sort of adult assistance. The number of college students requesting counseling or therapy has doubled in just four or five years.
Question three:
As you heard a moment ago, the second person to walk on the moon was Buzz Aldrin. Buzz was the first astronaut to have a doctoral degree, and he earned it from the school that has produced more astronauts than any nonmilitary institution. In fact, of the 12 humans who have walked on the moon, four graduated from that same institution, which is known by just three letters.
MIT.
You are great. I knew you could do it. “The beaver has landed!” Mrs. Reif, I believe they are ready.
As you…as you prepare for liftoff, I’d like to use the Apollo story to reflect on a few larger lessons we hope you learned at MIT because the spirit of that magnificent human project speaks to this community’s deepest values and its highest aspirations.
The first lesson is the power of interdisciplinary teams. We live in a culture that loves to single out heroes. We love to crown superstars.
As graduates of MIT, however, I expect you’re already skeptical of stories of scientific triumph that have only one hero. You know by now that if you want to do something big, like detect gravitational waves in outer space or decode the human genome, or tackle climate change, or finish an 8.01 pset before sunrise, you cannot do it without a team.
As Margaret Hamilton herself would be quick to explain, by 1968, the MIT Instrumentation Laboratory had 600 people working on the moon-landing software. At its peak, the MIT hardware team was 400. And from Virginia to Texas, NASA engaged thousands more. In short, she was one star in a tremendous constellation of talent. And together – together – those stars created something impossible for any one of them to create alone.
I had the privilege of helping to celebrate members of our community who were recently sworn in as new United States citizens – graduates of the Harvard Bridge Program. Through their own hard work, and with the generous help of volunteer student and alumni tutors, they can now enjoy the full rights and privileges of citizenship – and the full sense of belonging that comes with it. It was truly an inspiring ceremony.
At a time when so many people are dispirited by the deep divisions in our country, when our politics seem so dysfunctional, our graduates are taking up the cause of public service by running for office in record numbers. The world needs them, and their willingness to serve gives me hope.
As Margaret noted, this past year, I traveled to meet alumni who are helping to strengthen communities in Detroit, Dallas, and Houston; in Miami, Phoenix, and New York; in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and San Diego – in China, Japan, and England – people who are not only launching and building businesses and creating opportunity, but people who are also teaching, volunteering, advancing important legislation, working for non-profits, and serving the public good.
Here we are again. My favorite moment of the year. It’s a genuine day of dreams: in the student section, dreams of new careers, marriage, children, new adventures. In the parents’ seating, dreams of what to do with that disposable income they’re no longer sending to West Lafayette. All in all, a day like no other.
My own dreams about today sometimes are more like nightmares. What to say that’s fitting – that’s meaningful but still concise enough to get us on to the main event quickly? Hardest of all, what to say that’s the least bit original?
While dreaming, or daydreaming, about today, I found myself thinking about Purdue Pete. Again, this year, Pete was ranked among the most identified college mascots in the country, and the favorite in our Big Ten Conference.
A few years before your class arrived on campus, someone tried to redo Pete and turn him into some new symbol of our school. I wasn’t here, either, but as told to me, the idea started an immediate backlash, a near-riot, and died within days. I got to thinking about “why?”
Maybe part of it was his uniqueness. At my last count, there were 64 Eagles, 46 Tigers, and 33 Wildcats among college mascots. But there’s only one set of Boilermakers.
But I think our attachment to Pete stems mainly from the way he personifies our self-image of strength. When our up-and-coming football program chose its slogan for this year, it was “Only the Strong.” One of the year’s YouTube sensations featured a five-foot-nine Purdue player squatting 600 pounds.
Throughout our history, Dartmouth faculty and graduates have had an outsized impact on the world of the arts. Frost, Geisel, and Orozco in early times; Pilobolus, Romero, Kaling, Rhimes, and Arad in more recent years, just to name a few. And as Gail and I have attended your student concerts and plays, visited your studio art installations, and enjoyed the works of aspiring authors and poets on campus, we actually see the future of Dartmouth’s impact on the art world.
At the end of World War II, the famed School for American Craftsmen was born right here on the Dartmouth campus. And in 1962, Dartmouth pioneered a new model for performing arts centers across all of higher education with the opening of the Hop. Not long after, the Dartmouth theater department served as the earliest pathway for women on this campus, some of whom are seated amongst you today as proudly adopted members of the Class of 1969.
And today, the Hop, the Black Family Visual Arts Center, and our newly reimagined Hood Museum of Art together serve as the epicenter of artistic creation and expression on our campus and an incredible source of fulfillment for all of us.
Because we all stem from Africa. So in Africa, there's been more time to create genetic diversity." In other words, race has no basis in biological or scientific fact. On the one hand, result. Right? On the other hand, my definition of self just lost a huge chunk of its credibility. But what was credible, what is biological and scientific fact, is that we all stem from Africa -- in fact, from a woman called Mitochondrial Eve who lived 160,000 years ago. And race is an illegitimate concept which our selves have created based on fear and ignorance.Strangely, these revelations didn't cure my low self-esteem, that feeling of otherness. My desire to disappear was still very powerful. I had a degree from Cambridge; I had a thriving career, but my self was a car crashand I wound up with bulimia and on a therapist's couch. And of course I did. I still believed my self was all I was. I still valued self-worth above all other worth, and what was there to suggest otherwise?
But in retrospect, the destruction of my self was so repetitive that I started to see a pattern. The self changed, got affected, broken, destroyed, but another one would evolve -- sometimes stronger, sometimes hateful, sometimes not wanting to be there at all.The self was not constant. And how many times would my self have to die before I realized that it was never alive in the first place?I grew up on the coast of England in the '70s. My dad is white from Cornwall, and my mom is black from Zimbabwe. Even the idea of us as a family was challenging to most people. But nature had its wicked way, and brown babies were born. But from about the age of five, I was aware that I didn't fit. I was the black atheist kid in the all-white Catholic school run by nuns.I was an anomaly, and my self was rooting around for definition and trying to plug in. Because the self likes to fit, to see itself replicated, to belong. That confirms its existence and its importance. And it is important.
As you heard earlier, just over on that side of Killian Court, showing off their spectacular red jackets are more than 170 members of the class of 1969. Apollo 11, as you heard, landed on the moon a few weeks after their MIT graduation. A number of them went on to work in fields that were greatly…greatly accelerated by progress from Apollo 11. One of them is Irene Greif, the first woman to earn a PhD in computer science from MIT.
But I believe our 1969 graduates might all agree on the most important wisdom we gained from Apollo: It was the sudden intense understanding of our shared humanity and of the preciousness and fragility of our blue planet.
50 years later, those lessons feel more urgent than ever, and I believe that, as members of the great global family of MIT, we must do everything in our power to help make a better world. So it is in that spirit that I deliver my charge to you.
I’m going to use a word that feels very comfortable at MIT, although it has taken on a troubling new meaning elsewhere. But I know that our graduates will know what I mean.
After you depart for your new destinations, I want to ask you to hack the world until you make the world a little more like MIT – more daring and more passionate, more rigorous, inventive and ambitious, more humble, more respectful, more generous, more kind.
And because the people of MIT also like to fix things that are broken, as you strive to hack the world, please try to heal the world, too.
You know I learned a fact about airplanes the other day. This was – this was so surprising to see, I was talking to a pilot and he told me that many of his passengers think planes are dangerous to fly in. But he said actually, it is a lot more dangerous for a plane to stay on the ground. I say what? Like how does that sound what he said, he said because on the ground, the plane starts to rust.Malfunction and wear, much faster than it ever would if it was in the air. As I walked away I thought, yeah, makes total sense because planes were built to live in the skies. And every person was built to live out the dream they have inside. So it is perhaps the saddest loss to live a life on the ground without ever taking off.
The obscenity of apartheid came to an end. A young generation in Belfast and London have grown up without ever having to think about IRA bombs. In just the past 16 years, we’ve come from a world without marriage equality to one where it’s a reality in nearly two dozen countries. Around the world, more people live in democracies. We’ve lifted more than 1 billion people from extreme poverty. We’ve cut the child mortality rate worldwide by more than half.
America is better. The world is better. And stay with me now – race relations are better since I graduated. That’s the truth. No, my election did not create a post-racial society. I don’t know who was propagating that notion. That was not mine. But the election itself – and the subsequent one – because the first one, folks might have made a mistake. (Laughter.) The second one, they knew what they were getting. The election itself was just one indicator of how attitudes had changed.
It has an extremely important function. Without it, we literally can't interface with others. We can't hatch plans and climb that stairway of popularity, of successBut my skin color wasn't right. My hair wasn't right. My history wasn't right. My self became defined by otherness, which meant that, in that social world, I didn't really exist. And I was "other" before being anything else -- even before being a girl. I was a noticeable nobody.Another world was opening up around this time: performance and dancing. That nagging dread of self-hood didn't exist when I was dancing. I'd literally lose myself. And I was a really good dancer. I would put all my emotional expression into my dancing. I could be in the movement in a way that I wasn't able to be in my real life, in myself.
From your time at MIT, I trust all of you have experienced that feeling of learning from each other, respecting each other, and depending on each other. And I hope…I hope that this instinct for sharing the work and sharing the credit is something you never forget.
The moon-landing story reflects many other values – to seek out bold ideas, to not be afraid of impossible assignments, and always to stay humble, especially when it comes to the laws of nature. The Apollo story also proves how much human beings can accomplish when we invest in research and we put our trust in science.
But the final lesson I want to emphasize is not technical, and it could not be more important for our time.
Our society is like a big complicated family in the midst of a terrible argument. I believe that one way…one way to make it better is to find ways to listen to each other, to understand our differences, and to work constantly to remind each other of our common humanity. I know you will find your own ways to help with this healing, too.
This morning, we share with the world nearly 3,000 new graduates who are ready for this urgent and timeless problem set.
You came to MIT with exceptional qualities of your own. And now, after years of focused and intense dedication, you leave us, equipped with a distinctive set of skills and steeped in this community’s deepest values – a commitment to excellence, integrity, meritocracy, boldness, humility, an open spirit of collaboration, a strong desire to make a positive impact, and a sense of responsibility to make the world a better place.
So now, go out there. Join the world. Find your calling. Solve the unsolvable. Invent the future. Take the high road. Shoot for the moon. And you will continue to make your family, including your MIT family, proud.
As I was preparing these remarks, I realized that when I was first elected President, most of you – the Class of 20xx – were just starting high school. Today, you’re graduating at college. I used to joke about being old. Now I realize I’m old. (Laughter.) It’s not a joke anymore. (Laughter.)
But seeing all of you here gives me some perspective. It makes me reflect on the changes that I’ve seen over my own lifetime. So let me begin with what may sound like a controversial statement – a hot take.
Given the current state of our political rhetoric and debate, let me say something that may be controversial, and that is this: America is a better place today than it was when I graduated from college. (Applause.) Let me repeat: America is by almost every measure better than it was when I graduated from college. It also happens to be better off than when I took office – (laughter) – but that’s a longer story. (Applause.) That’s a different discussion for another speech.
But think about it. I graduated in 1983. New York City, America’s largest city, where I lived at the time, had endured a decade marked by crime and deterioration and near bankruptcy. And many cities were in similar shape. Our nation had gone through years of economic stagnation, the stranglehold of foreign oil, a recession where unemployment nearly scraped 11 percent. The auto industry was getting its clock cleaned by foreign competition. And don’t even get me started on the clothes and the hairstyles. I’ve tried to eliminate all photos of me from this period. I thought I looked good. (Laughter.) I was wrong.