[转载]耶鲁大学2020毕业典礼校长演讲
2022-12-11 15:29阅读：
Caring for Our
Neighbors：Congratulating Yale's 2020 graduates
Peter Salovey, President of Yale
University
Monday, May 18, 2020
![[转载]耶鲁大学2020毕业典礼校长演讲](http://s7.sinaimg.cn/bmiddle/001JVINYzy7E5dJaPVsd6&690 "[转载]耶鲁大学2020毕业典礼校长演讲")
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 sta
y 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.
