George Washington University Commencement

Senator Carnahan, Mr. Manatt and members of the Board of Trustees, President Trachtenberg, members of the faculty, parents and family members, class of 2003, honored guests, ladies and gentlemen:

It is an honor for me to join you this morning to deliver the commencement address. Since I graduated from George Washington, I wanted to make this speech special. I wanted to recall something profound from my own graduation and impart it to this year's graduating class. So I did a great deal of research in order to get ready.

I ordered my speechwriting staff to bring me copies of great commencement speeches from the past - including the 1977 speeches delivered here. And when they returned, I realized just how tough it would be to write this morning's speech - because they said, "Sir, YOU were the student speaker at your college graduation."

And I couldn't remember what I had said.

Rachel [Talbot, student speaker], I know your words will stay with your classmates much longer.

The things I do remember about my years at GW are much more mundane. Things like riding my bike from campus to an internship on Capital Hill, where I opened mail at 7a.m. every day for Senator Abe Ribicoff of Connecticut. Or the parties we used to have in the Thurston Hall dorms - and the night we decided to "liberate" the strawberry ice cream from the cafeteria there, long past midnight.

Or playing basketball with my friends at a bizarre little building we called the "Tin Tabernacle." It was a miniature basketball court inside a little metal building. It was so small that the walls themselves were the court's boundary lines. I guess that's why the GW men's basketball team always seemed to be one year away from greatness. And now that I'm a Governor and the police report to me, I'm not afraid to admit that we sometimes pried our way through a flimsy door to play basketball in there late at night too.

I came to school here because GW was in middle of everything. In many ways, GW was a different place. Back then, many people looked at us as a commuter school or the place where government workers took graduate courses at night.

Today, this is a leading research institution and the top choice for thousands of undergraduates - not to mention the home to Crossfire. And since 1986, women undergraduates have consistently outnumbered the men.

But as GW has grown, it has maintained a commitment to its original mission of bringing together individuals "from all parts of the country … to acquire the habits of good citizenship, to throw off local prejudices, and gain at first hand a knowledge of the practice, as well as the theory, of republican government."

Today, GW is a stronger institution because it has held on to President Washington's original vision - and that gave GW the grounding it needed to grow. That's a lesson we could all stand to be reminded of now and then.

Which takes me back to the speech delivered on my graduation day. My research reminded me that one of the speakers at my graduation was Calvin Linton, a member of the Class of 1935, professor of English literature, and dean of arts and sciences. When he died last year, this university lost a major figure in its history.

On the day of my graduation, he said, "It has become traditional over the past half century or so … to say that one of the chief benefits of going to college is that students are led to question everything - all their presumptions, all their beliefs, and all of their values." And yet, he went on, "I urge you to subject [that idea itself] to the same skeptical scrutiny which you are urged to apply to those of your parents, grandparents, and ancestors back through the ages." Because, he concluded, "Everyone needs what Joseph Conrad calls 'a few simple beliefs.'"

Since Calvin Linton's speech 26 years ago, the world has only grown more uncertain. And yet that truth remains - everyone needs a few simple beliefs, because they are what allows us to find our way in a world that rarely makes sense. So this morning, I would like to share a few simple beliefs that I have learned along the way.

The first is simple: Don't be afraid to fail. We learn through our failures. Believe me, I know the value of trying again. When I finished school, I took my entire life savings - $5,000 - and invested it in a business. I was young. I was inexperienced. But I was an entrepreneur, and I was proud. And in six weeks, I was broke.

So I started a second business. That one took a few weeks longer to fail.

Then I started a third business, based on a little-known new technology that could put telephones in cars. Everyone thought I was crazy - especially when they looked at my track record. But I persevered, and at the young age of 28, I was in on the ground floor of the wireless communications industry.

My success was due to good luck, hard work, and support and advice from friends and mentors. But most importantly, it depended on me to keep trying after I had failed. Those failures taught me that an old cliché is true: you can do whatever you put your mind to.

My second simple belief is that it matters how you treat other people. You know, things move so fast today that we too often ignore the way we treat other people. We curse at someone when we're stuck in traffic. Or we don't look people in the eye when we talk. Or we communicate virtually instead of face-to-face. Or we automatically click over to the next call when we hear the call-waiting beep. Or we dismiss the opinions of those with whom we disagree.

I earned my living for years from cell phones. But there comes a time to hang up the phone and get back to talking to people face to face, one on one. Where you can look in their eyes. In today's fast-paced world, it's more important than ever to get back to the good manners of the past. Things like not calling people older than we by their first names unless we're invited to. Or writing a thank you note when someone does something nice for us - and writing it on real paper with a real pen. Taking the time to extend these personal gestures is a high form of respect, and I don't know about you, but I don't want to live in a world where they disappear.

And finally, my last simple belief is the most straightforward: Call your mother. Call your father. Call your grandparents. Call your spouse. Call your children. This speech and this ceremony will be over soon. When it is, every person graduating should find your family members and say, "thank you" and "I love you."

Because millions of people around the world will never even be able to dream of going to college or graduate school - and you didn't make it here on your own. Your family helped you get here today, and they won't be around forever. So say it. It'll be good for you to say it and for them to hear it.

So that's it. Perhaps you'll remember this speech twenty years - or twenty minutes - from now, or perhaps not. Let's be honest - perhaps I'll remember this speech twenty years from now.

What I hope you will remember is the foundation that this University has built for you. Each of you has learned critical skills here. No matter what profession you'll pursue, each of you will need technical proficiency to succeed in the information age. But more than that, in a complex world, you'll need wisdom to find your way.

And this university has equipped you to develop that wisdom - by giving you a solid foundation in the liberal arts - by assembling one of the country's most diverse campuses - and by doing it all at the center of Washington, DC.

So when uncertain times tempt you toward intolerance, I hope you'll look back at your time here - and reject that false choice. When you have the chance to get ahead at another's expense, I hope you'll respect the community. When you have the choice between surrendering to a sound bite and wrestling with the nuances of a complex issue, I hope you'll choose reflection.

It won't be easy, but this country needs these values now, more than ever. And as individuals, you deserve nothing less.

Congratulations.