Every year, a faculty member is chosen to give a charge to the graduates. I became the new head this past December after a stint filling in for a semester while Dr. Wilmer was on sabbatical. I decided to give the charge myself this year. What follows is the speech I delivered to these fantastic students who will go out into the world and do wonderful things. I will miss them, but at the same time, our nation needs their energy, their passion, and their brilliance now more than ever.
A Charge to the MSU Class
of 2020: The Citizen as Essential Worker
September 11, 2001.
I’ll wager a bet that none of you graduating today have a clear memory of that
moment. I certainly do, and whenever I hear mention of 9-11, my mind snaps instantly
back to a particular image: A plume of
smoke pouring from the North Tower of the World Trade Center right before—in
the background—a plane steers toward the South Tower. That plane is Flight 175,
destined to slam into that second tower shortly after 9 a.m. Eastern Time. Why does
my mind go there? I think it’s because that image encapsulates the realization
that—at that exact moment—it was clear what America was facing: A terrorist
attack and likely war with those harboring the monsters who killed thousands of
innocent men, women, and children. That still frame, to me, is one of those key
turning points in a nation’s history. We are still wrestling with the
consequences of that horrible day nearly twenty years later.
Right
now, we are living through another momentous time which will shape our
collective futures for a generation or more. What’s your picture representing
this moment?
For
me, it’s a photo of a young man with black hair and bronzed skin. He’s clad in
green medical scrubs, standing astride an intersection in downtown Denver. His
arms are crossed, he’s wearing a medical mask, and he’s—angry? Determined?
Outraged? It’s hard to see with his mouth covered.
In
front of him is a large pickup truck—a brand-spanking new silver Ram 1500. An
older, heavy-set woman, wearing a T-shirt with USA emblazoned on the front, is
leaning out of the passenger window—(Screaming? Glaring? It’s not clear)—at the
medical worker blocking her car. She’s holding a placard with the words, “Land
of the Free” flush against the side of the truck’s door. Is she going to or
departing from a rally opposing the stay at home order put in place by
Colorado’s Governor? We don’t know—and that’s fitting because there is so much
uncertainty in the depths of this pandemic.
For
me, that’s the COVID-19 moment. With whom do you identity, graduates? The
defiant healthcare worker or the woman demanding her freedom?
It
was a stifling hot summer in Philadelphia when 56 men affixed their signatures
to parchment, detailing to the world how King George had violated the social
contract—and that the only remedy was to sunder the binds tying the 13 American
colonies to England. Freedoms had been withheld and denied, yes. But those
freedoms had been trampled upon by a government that was not representative.
The colonies had no members of Parliament. We had no say in the decisions made
for us. The Declaration is often remembered—and idealized—because it is viewed
as an expression of the freedoms that people ought to enjoy by virtue of their
humanity—rights that no government should easily deny.
But
as much as Jefferson’s Declaration is one of independence from Britain, it is also
a Declaration of Inter-dependence among those proclaiming the birth of a new
nation. Let’s not forget the concluding sentence:
“And for the support of this
Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we
mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.”
Back
to that picture in Denver. It’s easy to say don’t tread on me—like that woman
in the ginormous pickup truck. Oh, I bet it felt so damn good to release all that
frustration. Haven’t we felt some of that? Don’t you hunger for
companionship—to go to the grocery store sans mask, to hug your friends, to
belly up to the bar for a drink with your buddies after a long day of school?
But
then there’s that man clad in protective gear in front of that car, reminding
us that those hugs, those trips to the grocery store without sanitizer, those
shared beers, or an in-person graduation celebration—can come at great cost.
Perhaps not for us—but maybe for that nurse in the ER, the grocery store clerk
checking us out, the bartender pouring that beer, or the elderly relative
sitting in the Field House as you walk across the stage.
Freedom
without responsibility to each other is just another form of tyranny. The
Founding Fathers got it; they knew that a declaration of freedom is worth no
more than the paper upon which it is printed without care for each other. The
freedoms we now enjoy were collectively earned and are collectively defended.
Are the costs we bear now any higher than those born by previous generations
charged with protecting this nation? It is a point worth pondering.
Our
inter-dependence is essential, so I find it disturbing that the Department of
Homeland Security’s definition of so-called essential workers neglected perhaps
the most important job of all: Citizen. Our allegiance in this liberal
democracy of ours is to each other—we are all essential. To be free, we citizens
must all hang together— at six feet apart (!)—or surely, we will hang
separately.
Graduates
of the Class of 2020. I remind you that to establish justice, ensure domestic
tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and
secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity required the
founders to strive for a more perfect union.
To be more perfect: Together. Your charge is to work on that union as citizens,
mindful of what we owe each other, while being kind to ourselves and others
during these turbulent times.
