TheUrgencyofDoing:MITandtheSpiritofLeonardodaVinciBySusanHockfield
(2018-09-04 16:04:56)The Urgency of Doing: MIT and the Spirit of Leonardo da
Vinci By Susan Hockfield, 16th President of
MIT(2004-2012)
Freshman Convocation 2008
Good morning, and welcome, MIT class of 2012. Welcome also to
your friends and family who have come to see you off, as you begin
your MIT adventure.
Let me start by explaining the purpose of this Convocation.
From the Latin, ”Convocation” means, literally, a “calling
together.” Given the uncontainable energy of any group of 1,000 MIT
students, we don’t get to call you together very often. Frankly, we
start your careers here this way because it is virtually the last
time we can call you together, until you come together again to
receive your degrees in four very short years from now. However,
now that we’ve insisted on your attention, I hope to use it well,
to give you a sense of the character and spirit that define MIT,
and to sneak in a little advice along the way.
The calendar of the college admissions process means that we
have, for some fairly long part of this past year, kept you in
suspense, and then had the great joy of offering each of you an
invitation to enroll at MIT. It’s unlikely to be news to any of you
that we admitted fewer than 12% of those who applied to MIT last
year. Based on that statistic alone, you may feel lucky to be part
of this class. Let me reverse the perspective for a moment to be
very clear about how we feel about you: it is MIT’s very good
fortune that you decided to join us. What you bring to MIT is
partly individual: your own intellect, energy, ideas and
aspirations; your distinctive life experience and point of view;
your language, your culture, and your faith; your imagination and
your sense of humor. In addition to each of your individual gifts,
together you represent the start of a marvelous new chapter in the
history of human understanding, and it happens that we’ve gathered
in an unusually interesting place to think about that idea.
We sit this morning in the grand, grassy space of Killian
Court. The surrounding “Bosworth Buildings,” also called the Main
Group, magnificently embrace Killian Court. Together, this space
and these buildings represent the geographic and symbolic center of
our campus. Perhaps as important, these great buildings are also a
monument to the persistent power of human inquiry, a physical
representation of the stone-by-stone development of humankind’s
understanding of the world. Look up at the frieze on the buildings
nearest the river, and you will see a carved band of names – giants
of science and philosophy; mathematics and medicine; architecture,
art and engineering. Aristotle and Archimedes. Newton and Franklin.
Darwin and Pasteur. Names that mark the miles on the rising road of
understanding that led to the modern world. Towering there, those
names may seem intimidating, abstract, distant. Some in smaller
print are embarrassingly obscure. All are decidedly dead. And
certainly, the list is incomplete – starkly white, male and
Western. For a host of reasons, then, aren’t these intellectual
ghosts irrelevant to who you are and why you’re here today?
Absolutely not. Because all of them opened new chapters in their
lives – just like you. They were crazy about math and science,
engineering and design, art and philosophy – just like you. And
they were hopeful and ambitious and uncontrollably curious – just
like you. And even if we cannot all become intellectual giants, we
can each add our own stone to the incredible, inspiring, rising
edifice of human understanding – just as they did.
I want to bring one name down from that frieze today, as a way
of telling you a little about the remarkable history you inherit,
and about MIT. Leonardo da Vinci’s name is among the most familiar.
You’ll find it on Building 1, on the western side in the area
occupied by the Department of Civil and Environmental Engineering.
Da Vinci lived 500 years ago, from 1452 to 1519. Imagine leaving
work behind that would inspire awe and scholarship in 2508! Da
Vinci was an illegitimate child with very little formal schooling.
No one would have expected anything of him in particular. But from
decidedly modest beginnings, he built a life of almost
incomprehensible achievement.
Some think of him mainly as a painter, one of the two or three
masters who defined the highest artistic achievement of the Italian
Renaissance, the most celebrated period in all of Western Art. Yet
painting was not how he spent most of his time. Da Vinci worked as
a scientist and engineer; a sculptor and inventor; a city planner
and architect. The wide range of his interests and talents suggests
an embodiment of the ideal of a university, especially this
university.
Let me describe for you three of his characteristics that
profoundly resonate with MIT. First was da Vinci’s complete
disregard for the accepted boundaries between different fields of
knowledge. Everything he did fed everything else, interconnecting
disparate perspectives. Today, we dress up that attitude with an
awkward phrase, “multidisciplinary thinking,” but for da Vinci, it
was nothing more than his ravenous curiosity, his desire to explore
everything, to explain everything, and to put to use everything he
learned.
As a scientist, he made painstakingly precise observations of
human anatomy, of geology, of the structure of trees, and of the
physical properties of water and light. He drew, recorded,
calculated forces, speculated about causes, and experimented over
and over to test his ideas. In turn, those studies – that deep
knowledge of his subjects – made his paintings leap off the canvas
with life, every muscle, every hillside, every storm-tossed tree
vivid and intoxicatingly real. At the same time, his incredible
ability to draw – to think and render in three dimensions –
actually made it possible for him to invent, describe and
communicate engineering ideas that were unimaginable before. As an
anatomist, he used these methods to diagram the skull and its
relation to the brain. As an engineer, he used his scientific grasp
of fluid dynamics and geology to design stunningly original canals
and bridges. But he also used his engineering knowledge of sediment
and flow to perceive, in Tuscany’s stratified, tumbling rock
formations, a frozen image of violent, fluid motion – an intuitive
leap that presaged, five centuries in advance, today’s science of
plate tectonics. In the same way, much of the most exciting work at
MIT is happening at the intersections between disciplines: Where
cancer biology merges spectacularly with physics, computer science
and nanoscale engineering. Where climate science and the demand for
new energy sources collaborate creatively with economics, political
science, history and the practical realities of architecture and
the business world. Where neuroscience crosses into artificial
intelligence, philosophy and linguistics. Here at MIT, each of you
will find the joy and power of mastering a given field – the
discipline of knowing your discipline. But I hope that you will
also pursue your boundless curiosity well beyond those boundaries,
because from there you may encounter new ideas and fresh
perspectives that could take you beyond what has been found
before.
The second facet of da Vinci’s character that aligns with MIT
is his respect for and fascination with nature, both as a scientist
and an engineer. As he wrote in his notebooks, “Human ingenuity …
will never devise any inventions more beautiful, nor more simple,
nor more to the purpose than Nature does, because in her inventions
nothing is wanting, and nothing is superfluous.”
Contemporary society has a way of separating us from Nature in
our daily lives. But here at MIT, you will find a great many
engineers and scientists who treat Nature as their prime
collaborator. One example is Angela Belcher, Germeshausen Professor
of Materials Science and Engineering and Biological Engineering,
and a MacArthur fellow, among many other honors. Early in her
studies, she marveled at how abalone, a common mollusk, makes its
shell. By adding nothing but some proteins, the abalone transforms
calcium carbonate – simple chalk, a structurally weak compound –
into an intricately structured material 3,000 times stronger than
chalk. And the abalone performs this feat at normal earth
temperatures and pressures, with no toxic by-products. So Professor
Belcher asked, if nature could “self-assemble” such an
extraordinary structure out of such simple ingredients under such
benign conditions, why couldn’t we tap those natural mechanisms to
devise new materials of our own? As she and her colleagues have now
proven in many contexts, we can. For instance, they’ve engineered
benign viruses to self-assemble into a battery: a clear, non-toxic
film with the potential to coat whatever object needs power, such
as a cell phone.
For da Vinci, the simplicity he appreciated in nature became
his ultimate standard in design. And as you’ll discover here, from
robotics to aeronautics, computer science to mechanical
engineering, simplicity in design is also “very MIT.” In fact, Amy
Smith, in the Department of Mechanical Engineering, recently
published seven rules that guide her work in designing technologies
for communities in the developing world, from grain mills to
incubators. Her third rule quotes da Vinci himself: “Simplicity is
the ultimate sophistication.”
The third quality of da Vinci’s character that informs our
work at MIT is an irrepressible demand for hands-on making,
designing, practicing and testing, and for solving problems in the
real world. The inventions he sketched range from the first
adjustable wrench, to machines for making nails and minting uniform
coins, to fortified wagons, steam cannons and temporary bridges for
warfare. His fascination for tackling practical problems echoes the
central mission of MIT: to bring “knowledge to bear on the world’s
great challenges,” an assignment that MIT has pursued with
remarkable results, from developing radar during World War II, to
developing standards for the World Wide Web today. Da Vinci even
taught the students in his workshop to follow the principle of
demonstration – the same commitment to learning-by doing that will
define your MIT education. As he wrote, “I have been impressed with
the urgency of doing. Knowing is not enough; we must apply.”
That same spirit animates much of our work at MIT. You see it
in the ingenious modular houses that Professor of Architecture
Lawrence Sass designed as an affordable and attractive way to
restore the devastated neighborhoods of New Orleans: whole houses
whose construction requires only a mallet to assemble the
digitally-designed, friction-fit, interlocking pieces. You can
actually see one of these houses, now on display at the Museum of
Modern Art in New York City. You also see “the urgency of doing” in
the innovative batteries that Professor Yet-Ming Chiang has created
for the next generation of electric cars, a topic you’ll hear more
about in his lecture on Tuesday. That “urgency of doing” also
drives every aspect of the MIT Energy Initiative, or MITEI, an
expansive, Institute-wide initiative to tackle what may well be the
most pressing challenge of our time.
Five hundred years after da Vinci first taught all these
lessons – with his multidisciplinary curiosity, his admiration for
nature’s economy of design and his irrepressible passion for
solving problems – he remains an intriguing teacher. You will also
encounter a great many extraordinary teachers at MIT, perhaps the
most invigorating minds and inspiring mentors you’ll ever
know.
Just a warning: now we get to the advice part of the speech.
If I can succeed in conveying only one piece of wisdom today, it is
this: Almost invariably, the students who get the most out of their
MIT education have come to know well at least one member of the
faculty. I urge you to make that one of your goals for your time at
MIT; perhaps you’ll make it a goal of your freshman year. Some of
you may find it surprising that this is a very easy assignment: you
will meet faculty who teach your classes, and I encourage you to
accept their invitation to talk with them in office hours; I also
hope each of you, along with about 85% of our undergraduates, will
participate in “UROP”, our Undergraduate Research Opportunities
Program, that offers the opportunity to engage in cutting-edge
research with faculty. You will discover countless other avenues,
inside and outside of classes, to meet with faculty.
Over the next four years, you and your classmates will also
teach one another. There is a good chance that you will never again
live and work in a community with as rich an array of different
cultures and backgrounds as MIT. You will share your MIT experience
with classmates who don’t look or talk or think like you, which
will prepare you well for the global collaborations inevitable in
your careers. What’s more, you don’t have to look very hard for new
intellectual adventures here. You can take a hands-on summer
internship in a foreign country through the program we call MISTI
(MIT International Science and Technology Initiative). You can hear
the Boston Symphony Orchestra or visit the Museum of Fine Arts,
with free tickets from our Office for the Arts. And you can travel,
or sample classes or activities you’ve never done before, during
the Independent Activities Period, or IAP, in January. Be as
determined in your curiosity as Leonardo da Vinci – and you will
use your time at MIT to its fullest potential.
You are starting your college careers at an uncertain,
unsettling time, for this country and for the world. But even so –
especially so – I believe you will find MIT an inspiring place to
study, to learn and to grow. MIT is a place of practical optimism
and of passionate engagement with the most important problems of
the world. It is a place that is not satisfied until it finds the
deepest answers.
So let me close with one last word of wisdom from da Vinci. As
he wrote, “I had long since observed that people of accomplishment
rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and
happened to things.” That is the story of MIT, and it is a formula
for inventing the future.
We are delighted that you have joined us here to help write
the next chapter in the history of human understanding. Now, go out
and happen to things!
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