May 26, 2016
Welcome Remarks
Dear graduating students, family members, and friends; members of the faculty and the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health community:
What a pleasure it is to be among the first to congratulate you on this great occasion. As you move from being School of Public Health students to School of Public Health alumni, you step into a new chapter of life. Today, you join the ranks of our alumni community, one of the most extraordinary groups of people on this planet.
As an alum myself, I am proud—and honored—to welcome you. Already you have shown us some of the ways that you will change the world, even as you reflect the diversity of that world. Altogether, 539 of you are receiving degrees. You come from all over the globe—from 63 countries and 38 U.S. states and the District of Columbia.
Standing here, I am reminded of my own commencement at this School in 1985, when I received a master’s in public health. Our ceremony took place in this same location. I sat where you sit now, although we had no tent, every year we used to play weather roulette and we were facing the opposite direction with the stage on the Kresge steps. If you had told me then that three decades later, that I would address you today as Acting Dean, I would have thought: “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”
I mention this because it underscores the unpredictable journey on which you are now embarking. Of course, you have goals. Of course, you have plans. That is as it should be. At the same time, I am quite confident that life will present each one of you with opportunities—and challenges—that you cannot now begin to imagine. My dearest hope here today is that we’ve prepared you for both these opportunities and challenges.
These include becoming public health leaders in this nation and around the world, and I want to take a moment to reflect on what that means. Often, the word ‘leadership’ or the word ‘leader’ points to someone in a high-profile role—perhaps in a government, university, or a foundation. A prime example is today’s speaker, Donna Shalala, who has worked at the highest levels of all of three.
But there is also another important type of leadership—one that does not necessarily come with public prominence. Rather, it’s about leading by example wherever life may take you. About leading a life of service and integrity, with potentially vast ripple effects.
Last year saw the 50th Anniversary of the Selma, Alabama civil rights marches, aimed at securing voting rights for black citizens of the United States. Martin Luther King, Jr., of course, played a pivotal role. But change came not through the efforts of a single man, however extraordinary, but through the work of thousands of unsung heroes who gave their support—and all too often their lives—to the civil rights movement.
They too were leaders, and their work continues, carried on by many of you. While civil rights activists crossed that bridge in Selma, all too many bridges remain barred or restricted. As students, you have pushed us on these issues. You have placed a spotlight on what we sometimes call the “isms”—racism, sexism, discrimination related to gender, disability, sexual orientation, and religion, to name just a few. You have driven home the reality that discrimination against anyone diminishes us all. And I want to thank you for this. You have challenged us to be our better selves, and we are the better for it. Your impact on this School will be felt long after you leave.
In the words of global health philanthropist Bill Gates, the leaders of the future will be “those who empower others.” Of course, it is possible to do this from a position of prominence—as Donna Shalala has done—but it’s equally important to do this in less visible ways. In this spirit, I want to share some thoughts about two recent graduates of this School who continue to inspire me, and I hope will inspire you in the days and years to come.
The first is Elif Yavuz, a name that will be familiar to many of you. Some of you will have known her. Elif received her doctor of science degree in 2013, having completed her dissertation research on malaria in eastern Africa. Three years ago, she sat where you are sitting today. From this School, she went on to a job in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania as a senior researcher with the Clinton Health Access Initiative’s applied analytics team, where she quickly impressed colleagues both with her expertise and her passion.
Then, just a few months later, at the age of 33, Elif was killed during a terrorist attack in Nairobi, Kenya, where she and her partner—also killed—had traveled to deliver their first child.
As you prepare to embark on your own careers, please know that you will also carry the torch for those who’ve come before you, those who are no longer with us—for those who, like Elif, lost their lives as they sought to make the world healthier and safer for poor people around the world. In the words of one of the couple’s friends, shattered by the news, “I will eventually pick up the pieces and continue on with the sort of work that they themselves were so involved in: Bringing about change to a tattered world” out of “a pure love for all humanity and the natural world.” These are beautiful words. And I challenge us all to do the same.
The second alum I want to speak of today is Mosoka Fallah, an immunologist and epidemiologist and who received his MPH in 2012. After graduation, Dr. Fallah returned to his native Liberia where he found himself tackling the then raging Ebola epidemic—the deadliest on record—in some of Monrovia’s poorest and most hard hit neighborhoods. As someone who had himself grown up in neighborhoods he sought to serve, Mosoka Fallah was uniquely positioned to forge the bonds of trust so essential to combatting the epidemic. His quiet courage drew the attention of the New York Times, which featured his work in a front-page story.
I remember reading that article—learning for the first time about Dr. Fallah’s heroism. We at the School immediately reached out to him, asking what we could do to help. This was at the peak of the epidemic, and he was more or less singlehandedly trying to deal with Ebola amidst sprawling slums in Monrovia. Perhaps, we thought, we could send protective gear or bleach—concrete resources. But his request was quite different. What he said was, “I’d really appreciate a conversation about the ethics of quarantine and triage for treatment.” And that’s what we had, one early winter evening, sitting in a conference room at the School on a crackly line from Monrovia.
I tell this story this because it reflects my hope that you leave this School with far more than expert skills. Equally important is a profound understanding of the context in which you will operate, and an awareness that technical expertise is only part of the equation.
This story also underscores my hope that you will continue to draw on the great resources of this School—and the great resource that you have in each other.
Thirty years ago, at my commencement, there was a tinge of bittersweet melancholy along with the celebration. This was because we knew that that day would be the last time we’d be in touch with many of the friends we’d made here. Remember, this was before the Internet. The only ways we could imagine staying in touch was with personal visits or phone calls—no Skype then, no email—or we could send something called an aerogramme. Don’t know if any of you know what that is, but it’s a thin sheet of paper that you could fold into an envelope for overseas mailing.
Once we graduated, the School was also likely to lose touch with us. Aside from a single annual issue of the Public Health Review, we heard little from this institution when we departed.
I don’t need to tell you how much the world has changed. You have so many ways to stay in touch both with each other and with the School. Please realize what a gift this is and take advantage of it.
Sometimes it seems like we live in a world where the only constant is change. The degree that you will receive today does not mark a final destination. Rather, it is a single milestone on your journey of lifelong learning and the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health will be a partner in that journey.
While today marks the close of one chapter, it marks the start the next. As our newest alumni, I have no doubt that you will do remarkable things. While you may no longer walk this campus, you walk the halls with us in spirit. We will hold you in our minds and hearts. Hold your alma mater in your minds and hearts. And please, as the American saying goes, “don’t be strangers.”
Closing Remarks
Before concluding this ceremony, I would like to ask all our graduates to rise.
As a sign of your entry into the company of learned women and men, you may now move your mortarboard tassels from the right to the left.
This moment marks the end of our academic year—and the beginning of your life as a graduate of the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health. May it be filled with joy, satisfaction and wonder as you use your talents and education to make the world a better and healthier place.
Congratulations to all of you—and best wishes on your journey ahead!
Photo: Kent Dayton
Additional Coverage
Students urged to lead a life of ‘service and integrity’
Commencement day photo gallery
Commencement eve photo gallery
Commencement slideshow
Storify, a collection of photos taken by students, families, and friends
Student, faculty, and staff award winners
Clinton Foundation President Donna Shalala address
Student speaker Yu Na address
Alumni Council President-elect Rashad Massoud address