"Be Bold in your Endeavors"
Graduation speech by Dr. John L. Hennessey

Villanova University, May 20, 2001

Well, good morning, and congratulations to all the graduates and their families.  Thank you, Father Dobbin, trustees of Villanova University, and faculty, not only for this tremendous honor, but also for the wonderful education that I received here at Villanova 27 years ago.

One of the dilemmas faced by every speaker at a commencement is how long to speak.  If my speech is too long, I thought to myself, the graduates will become restless.  If it is too short, I will fail to inspire them.  So, in looking for guidance on the subject, I stumbled upon the advice given by Father Flynn, the president of St. John’s, to then governor Mario Cuomo of New York.

“Commencement speakers,” Father Flynn advised, “should think of themselves as the body at an old-fashioned Irish wake.”  He continued, “They need you in order to have the party, but nobody expects you to say very much.”

Now, since boyhood, I have usually followed the advice of Irish priests, even if they weren’t Augustinians.  And you’ll be happy to know that I intend to follow that advice this morning.

Today, we celebrate a commencement--and the root of the word, commencement, is the word, commence, whose Latin origin means “to begin,” or “to initiate.”  Now, I’m sure that most of the graduates thought of this as an ending rather than a beginning.  Nonetheless, this day is also the beginning of the next stage of your lives, and it is on this next stage that I offer my thoughts.  My remarks are based on guidance I have found useful in the 27 years that have elapsed since the day I was sitting where you are sitting now.

My first suggestion is to be bold in your endeavors.  America is a nation of pioneers, a nation that has been great to a significant extent by the willingness of its citizens to take risks and to try new things.  In my own life, I have found that being a pioneer, even sometimes to the extent of being slightly naïve, can be rewarding. 

As Father Dobbin mentioned—in the early 1980s, we started a research project at Stanford University called MIPS.  Upon completion of that project, we were frustrated, because computer companies showed little interest in putting our innovations to work.  So, I joined with several colleagues to try our hand at commercializing the technology by starting our own company.

Our first business plan was naïve and shallow.  Our expenditure analysis consisted of an embarrassingly simplistic spreadsheet, and unrealistic project schedules.  I knew little about basic business principles.  Unfortunately, during my undergraduate days at Villanova, I had taken only two courses in the College of Commerce and Finance.  This decision was probably the biggest risk I had every consciously taken.

But we knew that the technology that we had spent four years working on could change the way computers were built.  Happily, our vision, enthusiasm, and technical arguments convinced one investment firm to take a risk.  Our willingness to take this extra step, to take this risk and try our hand at transferring our research to the real world, has turned out to be critical.

Without our initiative, I am convinced that our discoveries would either never have had any industrial impact, or, at a minimum, have taken much longer to have significant impact.

There are many common proverbs that encourage us to be bold:  “Opportunity knocks but once;”  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”  And assuredly, one of the primary reasons to be bold is to make a difference.  But I find the words of Helen Keller as memorable, and perhaps wiser, than these classic proverbs.  Miss Keller said, “Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure.  The fearful are caught as often as the bold.”

As important as a willingness to be bold is a commitment to always strive to do your best.  Now, I’m sure you have this advice many times from your parents and teachers, and it is usually offered with the thought that best efforts will lead to successful outcomes.  But I offer it for another reason.  Not all your efforts will have favorable outcomes, and the knowledge that you gave it your best may be most beneficial in exactly those circumstances.

This advice has been helpful to me in my role in the classroom.  Sometimes a lecture goes wonderfully well--the examples are perfect; the students are interested; they ask insightful questions.  And you leave the classroom knowing that your work as an instructor was well done that day.  Another day, perhaps the material is dry, the examples miss the point; or the students stayed up too late the night before.  The class fizzles.  Sometimes the problem is that you just were not adequately prepared, and you leave the classroom thinking that neither your time nor the students’ time was well used.  And you regret not having given it your all.

St. Augustine, in his Commentary on the Thirty-Third Psalm, provides this advice, which I find applicable to both spiritual and secular pursuits in life.  He said, “Your aim in life should be as follows: always try to do your best in doing what you have to do, so that you may reach perfection. Never get tired of trying, because there is always room for improvement.”

As you move boldly and with your commitment to do your best, above all maintain your integrity, honor your commitments, and speak truthfully.  In the variety of roles, both academic and corporate, that I have had over the past 17 years in leadership, it is this advice that has proven most valuable in difficult times and with challenging decisions to be made.

This advice came from many people, but initially came to me from an elephant.  You may remember Horton the Elephant, of Dr. Seuss fame, who agreed to sit on the eggs of Maizie, the unreliable bird.  Horton kept his commitment to tend the eggs, wisely and stoically acclaiming, “I meant what I said, and I said what I meant, an elephant is faithful, one hundred percent.”

Now you probably didn’t realize that Horton, or at least his creator, was a student of Socrates, and that he was taking guidance from what Socrates once said:  “Regard your good name as the richest jewel you can possibly possessed of, for credit is like fire.  When once you have kindled it, you may easily preserve.  But if once you extinguish it, you will find it an arduous task to rekindle it again.  The way to gain a good reputation is to endeavor to be what you desire to appear.”

In light of what we continually see about our leaders in the media, Socrates’ advice seems as wise today as it was more than 2,000 years ago.

On this day, as you commence the next stage of your life, and you think back on your days at Villanova, remember that your education is a gift.  It is a gift from your parents, who first taught you to speak, instilled values in you, and supported you to help you reach this point.  It is a gift from all your teachers, from kindergarten to your years here at Villanova University.  And this is the day to thank all those who have contributed to your education, from parents and family to teachers and fellow students.

Education is a unique gift, given by one generation to the next without the expectation of a direct return, but with the sincere hope that you will use your education beneficially.

So with this gift comes an obligation, a responsibility, to make something of your education, and to help provide this gift to others who will follow.  Although today it is appropriate to show your gratitude with words, remember that it is by your actions that you truly indicate your gratefulness, and show that you understand the value of your education.

When I began my presidency at Stanford last year, I had the great privilege to meet a young man from Kenya by the name of Kamali Wilson.  Kamali is a Masai tribesman, whose story illustrates many of the elements I have talked about today.  Kamali’s father died at an early age, and his family, consisting of his mother and two siblings, was left homeless.  Fortunately, although the Masai are not well off, they do share a communal responsibility for members of their village.  So Kamali and his family moved from hut to hut, supported by their fellow villagers. 

His small village had no school, so as a young boy, he began running away every day to attend school in a village ten miles away.  He did well in school and attracted the attention of a high school approximately 100 miles from his village. But he could not afford to attend, even with a scholarship.  He had no money for clothes, books, or even bus fare to the city. 

The villagers of his town came to his rescue, by collecting two hundred dollars, with each family in the village donating something—a cow, a few coins, or whatever they could afford.  Today, Kamali is a sophomore at Stanford, having impressed a number of people both in Kenya and the United States who have helped support him. 

But let me continue his story with his own words:

“I have come a long way, and I feel very thankful to have made it to this university.  I’ve become the first person from my tribe, the Masai, to attend Stanford.  I hope that I will make it to medical school, and become the first Masai doctor, and return to my village and build a hospital for my people.  This is the dream I’ve held close to my heart and that has brought me this far.”

Of course, this is wonderful story of personal vision, perseverance, and willingness to be bold.  But I tell this story because it also exemplifies in my mind how our actions can show our gratitude and repay our obligations.  When Kamali achieves his dream of building the first hospital in Masai-land—which I believe he will—he will have given the people who helped him along the way—teachers, financial supporters, the members of his village, his parents, and everyone who has aided him—the greatest possible gift in return.

Not all of us can be Kamalis, but each of us can make the most of the gift of education.  We can put our education to work for the betterment of mankind, and share the gift of education, making it possible for others to benefit as we have.

Let me close by wishing you all much success as you enter the next stage of your lives.  I wish you the success that Emerson wrote about, 200 years ago, that you heard earlier:  “You stand at the beginning of a new millennium.  Be bold, grab the opportunity, and help make your world a better place.”

Congratulations and best wishes on the journey ahead.