Welcome to the law school commencement ceremony.
[APPLAUSE]
Class of 2014.
I am Martha Minow, and as Dean, it is my great pleasure
to welcome all of our guests, and most especially,
the members of the Harvard Law School Class of 2014,
to today's Diploma Ceremony.
[APPLAUSE]
Class of 2014, wow, this is it.
You made it.
Today, you are officially graduates,
alumni of the Harvard Law School.
Congratulations.
Every student graduating today has
traveled a remarkable journey to reach this moment.
You persevered, you debated, you served, you soared,
you picked amazing class day speakers, Preet Bharara
and Mindy Kaling, and superb people
to honor, Professor Tyler Giannini and Tracey Daley.
You made the law school yours, and you made the law yours,
and the world will be better for it.
Graduates, you know that this day belongs
not only to you, but also to your families
and friends, parents, grandparents, siblings,
children, romantic partners, ex-romantic partners, pals,
you know who you are.
And I salute you.
You loaned us your cherished ones.
Your support, your encouragement, your love
have brought us to this fabulous moment.
Graduates, I ask you now to please
stand to give your family and friends a standing ovation.
[APPLAUSE]
Celebrations seem to require speeches,
and I promise mine will be short.
I'm reminded of the story told by Erskine Bowles, who
was the president of the University of North Carolina.
And he told the story about what happened
when a rather colorful uncle passed away.
His aunt, the widow, talked with a reporter
who was writing a tribute for the local newspaper.
The reporter produced a 5,000 word draft,
and then phoned the widow to say, "by the way,
my editor wants me to tell you it will cost you $0.50 a word."
"Oh no," she said.
"Let's make it very short."
She paused for a minute, and she said, "just write 'Sam died.'"
She hung up on the phone, but a few minutes later the reporter
called back and said, "the editor told me to tell you
there's a five word minimum.
What else would you like to say?"
The widow thought again for a minute,
and then said, "Sam died.
Cadillac for sale."
So in that spirit, I will try to make every word count.
Class of 2014, when you arrived, I
told you that we searched the world for you.
And now you are even more extraordinary.
You seized the opportunities, and you invented new ones.
You demonstrated stamina and creativity.
You read and wrote late into the night.
You forged teams for study, for work, and for fun.
You refined interviewing techniques and research
techniques.
You refined arguments, including those
presented in the law school parody.
You offered constructive advice to those like me
who will stay after you leave, and you made the Haas
Lounge hopping with conversation and pretend studying.
You edited journals.
You kept people in their homes, despite foreclosure.
You devised award winning law reforms
for the new mayor of Boston.
You advocated on behalf of wounded soldiers.
You devised tools for schools to protect student privacy
in this age of electronic data collection.
You defended survivors of domestic violence
and improved management of diabetes
using state and federal laws.
You surveyed intellectual property rules
to protect the works of indigenous artists,
and produced go-to blogs, corporate governance,
labor law, anti-corruption, and the law's role in warfare.
117 of you traveled to 65 countries
as part of course work, clinical work, research,
and summer public service.
You tackled issues of patent law to improve access
to HIV/AIDS medication in South Africa, antitrust regulation
in Brazil, child marriage in Bangladesh.
You examined the role that historians
play when they offer evidence in the Cambodian Genocide
tribunal, and studied the treatment of sexual orientation
and gender identity within the United Nations' Millennium
Development Goals.
Your responses to disasters, both local
and around the world, your ability
to live all day and night in the Wasserstein Caspersen Clinical
Building were extraordinary.
You created organizations and breathed new energy
into existing ones, like the community enterprise projects
growing economic development in low-income Boston communities.
Your pro bono service was outstanding,
amounting to-- are you ready-- 341,951 hours
at 590 organizations in 48 countries and 43 states.
I ask all who performed pro bono service to stand.
You are upstanders.
[APPLAUSE]
You leave Harvard Law School and communities beyond us
better because you have been here.
And soon we will give you a tangible acknowledgment
of your work and accomplishments.
I will hand each graduate a diploma.
Well, to be utterly precise, as I have learned to be,
and you have learned to be, I will hand each of you
a leather case that is currently empty.
And after shaking hands with me, you will exit the stage,
have a photo opportunity, and then pick up
your actual diploma.
It's good to pay attention to details.
Please savor your achievement.
We have time for just one more moment
of law school, one more lesson.
And it is this.
I invite you to use your powers of imagination
along with your powers of analysis.
Now imagination may seem a quality belonging
to inventors and writers of fiction more than to lawyers.
Yet with imagination, you can brainstorm
ways to enlarge the pie, rather than simply divide it,
when you negotiate a business deal
or a settlement of a divorce case.
You can imagine how the internet could be analogized
to private property, or free speech, or a public trust.
One of our alums, while working as a law firm associate,
gazed out of his New York City window
as he pondered how to help a client lower his tax exposure.
Across the water he saw New Jersey.
And thinking about options, he proposed
that the business move to New Jersey, which
it did, saving considerable taxes along the way.
Lawyer Elizabeth Mason had an idea
to connect individuals to services for which they
were eligible in one stop shopping.
And now the single stop USA Digital Tool partners
with colleges and organizations to cut through tangled
Bureaucracies
Imagination matters especially when
we're in moments of failure.
Last year, the Boston Red Sox imagined success,
and came from the bottom to the top.
Don't talk to me about this year.
But they did so last year by relying
on teamwork, not on superstars.
When Red Sox CEO Larry Lucchino and his general counsel--
our graduate, David Friedman-- talked here last month
on campus, they both emphasized the power
of imagination, teamwork, critical thinking,
tied to their legal training.
And not long ago, a law professor in China
launched an idea, the idea of guiding cases,
to spark a new approach to building predictability
and consistency in the work of judges in that country.
Imagination is usually understood
as the province of artists.
My daughter, Mira Singer, has written over the past year
a series of short stories taking place in an imaginary location
away from normal times and real places.
This out of the way station, as she calls it,
sometimes appears as a bar, sometimes as a beauty shop,
depending on who's there.
It's a gathering place inviting a few people at a time
from across human and fictional worlds.
Suddenly they find themselves in this space
when they face a difficult obstacle in their own lives.
And they receive care and a sympathetic ear
of the bartender, or the hairdresser, or a manicurist.
And they have a chance to talk with fellow travelers.
This station is magical, so people
who speak different languages can comprehend each other.
But it can take a while for them to understand
one another's world views and experiences.
Characters ask each other, what brought you to this place?
And they share problems.
And they brainstorm about options and choices.
And then they can opt to return to when and where they were
before, or they can open another door
and try a different and unknown world.
Either way, the characters are bolstered
by the time out, renewed by the care and attention, stimulated
by learning about themselves and their fellow travelers'
worlds, problems, and opportunities.
Of course, I tell you this because I'm a proud mother.
Keep your eyes open in the future for the work of fiction
by Mira Singer, as of last week a college graduate.
Any publishers out there, give me your cards.
Anyway, I thought we might find here a metaphor.
A metaphor for the time you students
have had at Harvard Law School and for your destinations
to come.
Graduates, your faculty and staff
here hope that this school has been more than buildings,
and even more than classes, and tests, and clinics, and papers.
Harvard Law School is a gathering place,
joining people from across many worlds.
It's a way station where we discuss
and examine challenging problems.
Where we converse with our fellow travelers.
And yes, we hope sometimes to find sympathetic ears, care,
and attention.
And because of the magic of this place,
and the magic of our enterprise, people
speaking different languages come
to comprehend the worlds of their companions.
It may take a while for us to understand
one another's world views and experiences,
but we discuss what brought us to this place.
And we come to share the issues of our collective futures,
even as we face our individual paths.
We brainstorm options, and come to understand our choices.
Some of you will return to when and where you were before.
Others will walk through doors to new worlds, bolstered
by the time here, renewed and stimulated
by learning about yourselves and your fellow travelers
worlds, problems, and opportunities.
You will soon depart to law firms and clerkships,
to nonprofit organizations and businesses,
to teaching, to still other steps of self invention.
Whatever you do next, and after that, and after that.
Here is the opportunity and challenge to come.
Can you create for your colleagues, your collaborators,
your clients, a gathering place, joining people
from across differences?
Can you create safe spaces to examine challenging problems?
You will need to earn the trust of others.
How?
Well, it helps to start by being trustworthy.
Can you converse with others along their journeys,
even when they are adversaries or competitors?
Can you create a station away from the mess
that brings a client to you?
Can you offer a sympathetic ear, an attention,
and enough of a common language to enable
you to understand the world view of others,
and to help them understand yours?
Can you brainstorm options and open new doors,
or return home to see it anew?
Can you strengthen others by listening,
by taking apart problems and opportunities layer by layer
in the landscapes of law, business, non-profits,
transforming in this globalizing time?
If you can, then the rule of law,
and insights from the past, and imagination of the future,
will afford magic and meaning for you
and those with whom you work.
Because now it is your turn.
You, the Harvard Law School Class of 2014,
will be counsel for the situations to come.
You will define law, business, public policy, and leadership.
Will you question assumptions every day?
Will you take risks?
Will you grab challenges?
Will you imagine new approaches to tough problems?
Your influence reflects the Harvard Law School.
What it is, who you are, and who you will become.
I ask you to use your influence to better
your communities and the world.
Collectively, you wield more talent, more power,
than any other group I can imagine on earth.
And I ask you to dig deep into your talents,
take risks, and make a difference.
I also ask you, please stay in touch with us,
because we will miss you.
We searched the world for each and every one of you.
You have exceeded our hopes.
Congratulations to the Class of 2014.
[APPLAUSE]