耶鲁大学2020毕业典礼校长演讲

标签:
演讲毕业典礼耶鲁大学petersalovey2020 |
分类: 英语教育 |
Caring for
Our Neighbors:Congratulating
Yale's 2020 graduates
Peter Salovey, President of Yale
University
Monday, May 18, 2020
Graduates of the Class of 2020, family
members, and friends: It is a privilege to be able to speak with
you, even in this unusual way. I know you would rather be on
campus—and I wish you could be here—but I am glad we can all do our
part to reduce the transmission of COVID-19 and stay
healthy.
Over the past several months, the novel
coronavirus has spread around the globe, infecting millions and
claiming far too many lives. It has come to nearly every community;
it has come here, to Yale’s doorstep.
This crisis has been a wake-up call for
all of us. It has stretched health care systems to the breaking
point. It has threatened economies, both household and global. And,
like many tragedies, it has exposed the vast gulf between the most
fortunate and the most vulnerable. Long after the pandemic itself
has subsided, we will need to commit ourselves to finding new and
creative solutions to these long-term problems.
It may be too early to say what we have
learned from all of this. But at the least, we see more sharply
than before our interdependence as a human community. Our deep
levels of connection and need for one another are a weakness that
infectious diseases exploit. But our interdependence is also a
source of strength and vitality in uncertain times—indeed, all the
time.
Many of us have found inspiration in the
sacrifices of frontline hospital and health care workers; in the
commitment of essential staff; and in the contributions of public
health experts and legions of volunteers. All around us, we have
seen ordinary people transformed into heroes.
What does it mean to be called to
heroism, to step out of your normal life and do something
extraordinary? How do we know if we will respond to such a
call?
Perhaps the most famous story of this
kind is the Parable of the Good Samaritan. You are probably
familiar with it: A man is traveling along a road when he is
attacked by robbers, who leave him for dead. Three men pass by: the
first two, who are men of high standing, ignore the injured man.
The third man—a Samaritan, a social outcast—stops to help. He tends
to the dying man’s wounds, puts him on his own donkey, and takes
him to an inn, where he pays for his stay. He even tells the
innkeeper he will come back and pay for anything else the man
needs. The Samaritan is a true neighbor to the dying man, and he is
the unexpected hero of the parable.
One of the classic studies from my field
of social psychology takes the Good Samaritan as its jumping off
point. In the 1970s, two psychologists conducted an experiment to
understand why people help—or don’t. They chose a group of seminary
students who were studying to be ministers. The students were told
they needed to go to a nearby building to prepare sermons on—what
else?—the parable of the Good Samaritan. Then they were divided
into three groups. The first group was told they had plenty of time
before they needed to be at the other building. The second group
was told they needed to hurry, or they would be late. The third
group was told they were already late and really needed to
hurry.
So, we have all these different students
on their way to work on their sermons, presumably with the Good
Samaritan on their minds. But as they are walking between
buildings, each encounters someone needing help—actors, of course,
but pretending to be very ill or hurt. In some cases, the actor was
lying on the sidewalk, and the seminary students had to physically
step around him in order to get by. The researchers wanted to know,
who would stop to help?
Well, not many. Although two thirds of
the people who thought they were early stopped to help, fewer than
half of those who were told they were just on time did so. Worst of
all, only 10 percent of the seminary students who thought they were
late took the time to check on the hurt person. That means 90
percent of those students thought it was more important to rush to
work on their sermons—about the Good Samaritan—than to take care of
someone who was sick or hurt and alone. Maybe this was the real
lesson of the parable. As the researchers pointed out, perhaps the
first two men were not bad people; they just had busier
schedules!
How busy are we? Are we too busy to be
neighbors?
If nothing else, that much has changed
in the past few months. Faced with a global pandemic of staggering
scope, we have had to slow down. We have adjusted our lives and our
expectations. And—I believe—we have seen a bit more clearly what is
meaningful and essential. Perhaps, too, we have seen our
neighbors.
But in some ways, we face an even
greater challenge now than the one the Good Samaritan or the
seminary students faced. They couldn’t help but see their
neighbors; they were right on their path. But in trying to contain
the spread of COVID-19, we have had to act with concern for people
we don’t know and may never see. We have had to think about
neighbors who are very real, but also very abstract. We have been
forced to reimagine who and where our neighbors are.
When this crisis is over, this is the
lesson I hope we will carry with us: That we must act with urgent
concern and compassion for the neighbors we know personally and
those we do not; for people down the street, and those on the other
side of the globe.
For COVID-19 is not the only pandemic we
will face; it is not the only challenge you will tackle. Yes, there
will be other infectious diseases, other public health challenges.
But I am thinking, too, of different kinds of pandemics. Right now,
our neighbors around the world are already experiencing the deadly
effects of climate change. They are living through extreme weather
events and rising sea levels. Scientists tell us with confidence
that these conditions will only get worse unless we take drastic
action to slow the warming of our planet. The lives we save
tomorrow depend on our actions today.
What else threatens the health and
well-being of the human family? What about the pandemic of poverty,
the illness of inequality? Will we act in time, or ignore the
problem?
These are questions we must answer
together. Our interdependence can be a source of strength—but only
if we agree to look beyond our immediate line of sight. Only if we
learn how to see our neighbors.
Today, I can say with confidence that
the world is full of neighbors and heroes. I think of Chaney
Kalinich, a 2019 graduate of Yale College, who has joined others in
our community to volunteer with the New Haven Medical Reserve
Corps. Chaney is working with some of the city’s most vulnerable
residents while completing her master’s degree at the School of
Public Health, where she is helping to develop a program to track
COVID-19 cases in the state.
I think of a group of current Yale
College students who started a company to connect senior citizens
with phones, tablets, and other devices so they can keep up with
their doctors’ appointments via telemedicine. These students are
working with volunteers across the country, and they recently
delivered a shipment of devices to patients at the West Haven VA
Medical Center.
Across this city and region, countless
individuals are steering us through this crisis. Health care and
other essential workers are risking their own health and wellbeing
to care for others. Scientists are working long hours to understand
the disease. First responders, members of the National Guard, and
volunteers are distributing food to those in need.
On this campus, our remarkable staff and
faculty members have made so many changes and sacrifices to ensure
the best outcomes for our students and this community.
And you, members of the Class of 2020:
In the midst of unprecedented circumstances, you have demonstrated
concern for your neighbors, near and far. You have made great
personal sacrifices to protect others.
You have given up big moments—recitals,
performances, and championship games. You have missed in-person
classes and year-end rituals. And you have also missed quieter
moments—meals and conversations, walks with friends through Old
Campus and down Chapel Street.
Yet in the face of disappointment and
hardship, you have remained committed to your studies. You have
continued to invent, imagine, and create. You have stayed connected
with friends and family members. You have rejected isolation in
favor of community. You have strengthened the ties that bind us
together as a university and as a human family.
And today, I encourage you to think of
the Good Samaritan in a new light: not how great or amazing he was,
but how ordinary he was. Life calls each of us, average human
beings, to acts of extraordinary courage.
These are no ordinary times. The world
needs each of you, prepared to tackle whatever challenges come your
way. I am confident that, with eyes open and hearts full of
compassion, you will take Yale’s mission of light and truth to
neighbors near and far.