Thank you, I should probably quit while I am ahead and sit down.
Thank you, Ella, for that kind introduction, and thanks to the Fourth-Year Trustees for inviting me. It’s an honor to have been asked to speak, and I’m thrilled to be with all of you. I’d like to congratulate the Class of 2026 and all of your friends and family in the audience. It is a big deal to graduate from college. This is not a pretend milestone like third grade graduation. This is a genuine milestone. And you and your families should be justly proud.
I was hoping to graduate with all of you this year, albeit from the presidency. But as you may have heard, I was allowed – you might even say encouraged – to graduate a year early! Nonetheless, given everything that we went through together, I’d like to consider myself at least an honorary member of the Class of 2026, if that’s OK with all of you.
In all seriousness, let me say this: I have missed you, and I am filled with joy and gratitude to see all of you here. More than I can fully convey in words, though, I will give it a try at the end of my speech.
For now, I’d like to begin by acknowledging a sad truth. Sad for all of us, actually. It is highly unlikely that you will remember this speech. My only hope is that you might remember the main message, which is inspired by a speech by Winston Churchill that he gave during WWII, while he was serving as prime minister of the United Kingdom. The speech came at a difficult phase of the war and Churchill was trying to strengthen the resolve of his fellow Brits to stand firm and continue the fight.
In that speech, Churchill memorably told his audience this: “Never give in. Never, never, never, never.” This was not the entirety of the speech. But these are the only two lines people remember, including me. That’s not a criticism. Most speeches are completely, 100% forgettable. The best that a speaker or audience can reasonably hope for is a memorable line or two.
Which is why, today, I’m going to follow Churchill’s lead and offer you a very concise and somewhat related message. Here it is: “Do the right thing. Always.”
My hope is that this simple message will stick with you and help strengthen your resolve whenever you face the question, as you have before and will again, of whether to do the right thing.
I am tempted to stop right here, given that what I say next will almost surely be forgotten. But I am Irish Catholic, and for that reason I feel anticipatory guilt about – well, about everything, but especially about telling you to do the right thing without providing at least some explanation.
So, I’d like to say a little more about a couple of questions that might be on your mind and are worth discussing in any event: First, how do you know if you are doing the right thing? And second, why do the right thing at all? After addressing these two questions, we’ll have some time for audience participation.
We should wrap up well before midnight, so …
How do you know if you are doing the right thing? This a deceptively difficult question.
On the one hand, doing the right thing has a know-it-when-you-see-it quality, and I think we all have an intuitive understanding of what it means to “do the right thing.” You know you are doing the wrong thing, for example, if you think: “My mother can never know about this.” You know you are doing the right thing, by contrast, if you think: “I hope to be able to tell my grandkids about this someday.”
Beyond that, however, it gets a little complicated, because there are a million ways to describe and define what it means to do the right thing. I know this because I have obsessive tendencies and am on sabbatical. So, I have been down a lot of rabbit holes.
I rewatched the Spike Lee movie, “Do the Right Thing”; have poured over the Trolley Car problem; read an inordinate number of theological and philosophical essays; revisited Robert Frost’s horse rider who has promises to keep; and talked with my friend Claude. I even rewatched “Sophie’s Choice,” which may be the saddest movie I’ve ever seen. Along the way, I exhausted the patience of my family and friends, one of whom recently suggested: “How about you do the right thing and STOP TALKING!”
After wandering through the “do the right thing” wilderness, if I had to boil it down to its essence, I believe that doing the right thing means living your values, even when it’s hard and even when no one is looking. And it means making choices that are not about your personal gain, but instead about someone else or something bigger than yourself – a community, a cause, a principle.
Your values might come from your family, your faith, your culture, your conscience, the UVA honor code or some combination, just to name a few sources. You might have a long list of values, or your values might be summed up by the Golden Rule. Regardless, doing the right thing means acting in ways consistent with those values. It also means making decisions that are not all about you and your personal welfare.
So, if you value being a good friend, as I’m sure you all of you do, then you should be a good friend, even when it’s inconvenient. If you value your family, show up for them, even when it doesn’t fit your schedule. If you value honesty, be honest with yourself and others, especially when it matters. If you believe in helping others, help them, whether you get credit or not. If you believe in showing gratitude, show it. If you believe in a cause or principle, stand up for it, even when others are ducking for cover.
That’s what I mean by doing the right thing.
Now, sometimes doing the right thing will be pretty easy. I believe, for example, that it would be wrong to steal a bicycle, and I’ve never really struggled to put that belief into practice. Doing the right thing can also bring you joy, as you’ll see in a moment when we get to the audience participation part.
Other times, however, living your values will be genuinely difficult. Choosing to do the right thing might put you at a disadvantage, at least in the short run. If you don’t cheat on a test or lie to your boss, for example, you might do worse than you would have if you had cheated or lied. If you lend a hand to someone in need, you might lose some time that you could have spent on yourself.
Doing the right thing might also put you at risk. If you speak up for a person or a cause that others are willing to ignore or denigrate, you risk – at the very least – embarrassment. If you refuse to compromise your principles or speak truth to power, you might risk losing a promotion or your job.
There will also be times when it’s impossible to tell what the right thing is, and the best you can do is make a decision for the right reasons. In my experience, these occasions, while real, are pretty rare. Most of the time, you’ll know or be able to figure out the right path. The hard part will be summoning the will or courage to do what you know is right.
This is why one sure sign that you are about to do the right thing, or you are at least thinking about it, is that you start to make excuses to avoid doing what you know in your gut or heart is right. Or you feel a tug at your sleeve that is telling you to pay attention to something you are trying to ignore. Or your stomach starts to churn because you are about to take a risk and stand up for something or someone you believe in.
It is in these exact moments that I hope you will remember the main message of this speech and choose to do the right thing. That you will hear a voice in your head that says: Don’t give in to the excuses. Pay attention to that tug at your sleeve. And know your stomach is churning not because of that burrito, but because you are about to do the right thing.
My dream is that five or 10 years from now, you will come back to a reunion, track me down, and say: “Jim, first off, you haven’t aged a bit. Second, I want to tell you about the time I cursed you and this speech, and then I went on to do the right thing.”
Now, if always doing the right thing sounds daunting, let me offer you some reassurance. You don’t have to be a martyr or a hero to do the right thing. It doesn’t have to be dramatic or table stakes to count.
Nor does it have to be the only thing you do. Life doesn’t consist just of right things and wrong things, so if you are not doing one, you are doing the other. Aside from right and wrong, there are some smart things to do, like showering and eating a good breakfast. And there are fun things to do, like showering, eating a good breakfast, and then streaking the Lawn.
Even if you commit to always doing the right thing, as I hope you will, you will still have plenty of time for the smart and the fun, as well as the enriching, romantic and adventurous.
You can even leave room for some harmless mischief, especially given that you are about to graduate from the recently rebranded UV.
And speaking of mischief, harmless mischief, I gather that if I go to the Corner tomorrow morning at 7 a.m., I might see some of you there?
You can rest assured, finally, that I’m not suggesting you always have to do the nice thing, as opposed to the right thing. There’s a difference between nice and right, even if the boundary is sometimes blurry.
To give you a brief example: My mother was a big believer in reaching out to people when they were sick or otherwise struggling, which I admired. She also tried to enlist me to do the same, which I also admired, but sometimes found perplexing. As she got older and had more time on her hands, looking for people who might be struggling became a sort of hobby.
She would call me and say something like: “Remember, Mrs. Burke, who lives eight houses down from us?” “I’m afraid not,” I would say. “Well,” she would continue, “you delivered newspapers to her when you were 10. Anyway, her sister’s cat died. Yeah, it was a tabby. Apparently, they were very close. I was thinking it would be nice for you to send a note.” I’d ask: “Mrs. Burke or her sister?” My mom would say: “Oh, right! Both!”
It would have been nice, if slightly random, for me to send that note or two, but I wouldn’t put it in the “do the right thing” category. Unlike my mother, I’m not telling you that you always need to send that note.
To be absolutely clear – this is really important – I am not against doing nice things! That should not be the message that you take away from this speech! I’m just happy to leave the category of nice things to your discretion – and perhaps your mother’s. To put it another way, I’m not insisting that you send your friends birthday cards every year, but I am imploring you to pick up the phone when they call at 3 a.m.
All of which is a roundabout and long-winded way of saying, in answer to the question of how you’ll know, I have complete faith that you will know in your gut, your head, your heart, when you have an opportunity to do the right thing. When you do, you should, even if it’s hard.
Which leads to the second and last question of why.
Why do the right thing at all?
This is an awkward question, because you know that you’re supposed to just nod your head in agreement when someone says you should do the right thing. You might even be embarrassed to ask this question in public, which is why I hesitate to tell you that Keoni asked me this very question earlier. That said, it’s a fair question that deserves an answer. Here is my attempt.
For starters, Kathy McGruder, widely known as Ms. Kathy, is in the audience today in the front row. Tony Bennett, the former men’s basketball coach, couldn’t be here today, but will be in the audience for Final Exercises tomorrow. That’s worth a clap. I know for a fact that both Ms. Kathy and coach Bennett would want and expect you to do the right thing. And I don’t know about you, but I would never want to disappoint either one of them.
I’m not sure you need any other reason to do the right thing, but just in case, here’s another one: If not you, who? Or, if not Hoos, then who, if you know what I mean. You are prepared for and capable of doing the right thing, and as the saying goes, to whom much has been given, much is expected.
Your education has provided you with knowledge and skills that can contribute not just to your own success, but to the welfare of others. You’ve experienced self-governance and have lived in a community of trust bound by an honor code, so you should have a sound moral compass and know what it means to act with integrity. And you have been a student at a university that has aspired to be both great and good, in the sincere hope that you would as well, both at UVA and beyond.
To be sure, there are plenty of people quietly doing the right thing, day in and day out. But when it comes to leaders, there is not a lot of competition in the “do the right thing” category. Whether in the public or private sector, too many leaders seem more concerned about themselves than the welfare of those they should be serving.
I say this because you will undoubtedly have opportunities to lead in ways large and small. My hope is that you feel both obliged and prepared, given your education here, to be a different kind of leader, one who leads with the courage and integrity to do the right thing time and again. But you should also see an open lane to do so, and you should know that doing the right thing is contagious. I believe, deeply, that most people, most of the time, want to do the right thing. And your example will inspire them to do so.
The final reason to choose the right thing when you have the chance may sound melodramatic, but it’s true: your choices are cumulative and will define your life. I trust you all aspire to be good people for your entire lives. But to paraphrase Forrest Gump and Yoda, good is as good does. You don’t want to live feeling like a fraud, with one set of aspirations and another reality. You run the risk that you eventually just give up on the idea of being a good person altogether, which would be bad for you and for the rest of us, especially when all of you are running the world.
In sum, if you choose the path, time and again, that will make your grandkids proud of you, I promise you will also be proud of yourself and your life.
OK, this is where you all come in. I’ve spent a fair bit of time describing how it feels to do the right thing. To end my time with you, I’d like to show you, rather than tell you. I’d like you to experience the joy that can come from doing the right thing.
I believe it’s always right to thank someone who has helped you, especially those who don’t expect to be thanked. No one makes it to graduation alone. To the members of the Class of 2026, you have friends and family in the audience who helped you along the way. Please take a moment to thank them for helping you. If you can only stand, wave and clap, that’s fine, but if they are close, feel free to give them a hug, fist bump, high five, whatever, go ahead. And feel free to make noise.
OK, next up.
Now I need to ask you to help me thank some people who deserve your thanks as well. Because of the way my time as president ended, the people I worked with – not just in Madison Hall, the president’s office, but all across the University – were never properly thanked. Some stepped down when I did, others stayed and continued their work. All of them worked incredibly hard on your behalf. I wonder if you can help me thank them?
OK, you see what I mean, right? That feels good, doesn’t it?
OK, one last person for us to thank, who will not be thrilled about this, but it’s the right thing to do. I am married to Katie Ryan. She worked as hard as I did over my seven years as president, and she cared as much about all of you as I did. She was there when we opened the president’s house in 2022, and she attended every single open house for the next three years. I have already thanked her, but I’m sure it would mean a lot if you could take a second to thank her as well.
OK, it’s time to land this plane.
Let me end by doing the right thing and thanking all of you in the Class of 2026. We met nearly four years ago in this very arena, as you were just starting out, and I asked you to be curious and not judgmental. Since then, we have been through a lot together, not all of it easy. In fact, some of what we experienced was as hard as it gets. We also shared a great deal of joy and laughter. It’s sometimes hard to fathom how we still have the capacity for joy amidst sorrow, but I suppose that’s just part of the human condition.
In any event, I’d like to thank you, first off, for making me laugh. Thank you as well for helping me grieve and showing me what it means to face tragedy with grace and compassion. Thank you for making me want to be a better person and a better leader. And thank you for telling me, when I needed to hear it, that you were counting on me to be a better person and a better leader. Thank you for dazzling me with your talents and your kindness. Thank you for sharing your stories, advising me, running with me, having lunch with me, and inviting me to your fraternity parties. (I’m mostly kidding about that last part.)
Thank you, finally, for giving me hope. It’s common for graduation speakers to say that they are counting on the next generation – namely yours – to meet the challenges and solve the problems created by the previous generation, namely mine. I think this is both unfair and unwise.
It’s unfair because why in the world should those of us from the generation that messed things up expect your generation to clean up our mess – and to be excited about the chance! Don’t get me wrong, I do hope you take this on, but I can’t in good conscience suggest that it’s all on your shoulders now – and hooray for you!
It’s also unwise, I believe, to pin your hopes on a generation that has not yet been tested or had a chance to prove themselves. Who knows whether your generation can be trusted to do the right thing? In my view, it’s a little too early to tell.
All of that said, if I can’t yet trust your entire generation, I trust all of you. You give me hope because I have seen what you can do. In particular, I have seen you do the right thing over and again.
You have supported each other in ways large and small, through grand gestures and small kindnesses. You helped our community heal after the tragic shooting in 2022. You logged tens of thousands of hours volunteering through Madison House. You created a guide for students interested in public service. You improved the UVA Community Food Pantry, and you created the Cavalier Career Closet.
You spoke out when you thought I was on the wrong path, and you spoke out when you thought the board was on the wrong path. You defended student self-governance. You advocated for UVA employees and for Charlottesville residents. You advocated for your fellow students. You found ways to celebrate and thank your colleagues, your professors and mentors, and UVA staff for helping you along the way.
Many of you told me you hoped to leave UVA better than you found it. And guess what? Together, you have done exactly that.
You have my deepest thanks. Thank you for doing the right thing, over and again.
Keep doing just that. Always.
Thank you.
Valedictory Exercises at John Paul Jones Arena