Honors Convocation
Delivered by Katharine T. Bartlett '68, May 2, 2002
It is my great pleasure to be back at Wheaton, 34 years after my own honors convocation, speaking to a faculty I know to be brilliant, and to a group of students who are incredibly talented, smart, accomplished, and hardworking, in Cole Chapel that seems even more breathtaking than those many years ago when I came here regularly. I thank President Marshall for inviting me. It truly is a tremendous honor and privilege to be here. And I congratulate all students who are receiving honors here today.
I speak today about luck. The reason for this topic is a little different than what drove such distinguished scholars as Bernard Williams and Thomas Nagel to write well-known articles about luck. Several weeks ago, my assistant said to me as I was rushing by her desk on my way into my office: "They need a title for your talk at Wheaton." Consumed at that moment with a number of different crises, I continued into my office muttering under my breath, "Good Luck." My assistant followed me into my inner office. "Luck?" she said doubtfully. "Why not," I answered, still wholly distracted. She e-mailed in the topic to President Marshall's office. And here we are today, talking about luck.
As it turns out, luck is something that has always fascinated me. We often say "good luck" to each other. As in, good luck on your exams; good luck in graduate school; good luck in your job; good luck on your marriage. What do we mean by this?
According to philosopher Martha Nussbaum, luck is "what just happens to a person, as opposed to what he or she does or makes." Lots of good things have happened to all of us here which were not a result of our own actions or intentions, but rather of luck * some are internal endowments such as our IQ or our athleticism; some are caused or made to happen by others * the economic and psychological support of family and friends, an excellent teacher, athletic opportunities. When we celebrate your achievements today, we are thinking not of your good luck, but what you have done with it: your hard work, ambition, follow through. Indeed, much of what your parents and those who have taught you throughout your lives have tried to help you do is to neutralize luck, that is, be prepared for whatever unpredicted events come your way, be able to get back on track no matter what throws you. Luck is, in this sense, the enemy. Even good luck has a certain element of unfairness about it: for why, we have to wonder, in this society based on merit, should some people have the good luck to start off smarter, or richer, more athletic, or better looking, than others?
Thomas Jefferson is reputed to have said "I am a great believer in luck. And I find that the more I work, the more I have of it." This view represents, I think, what most of us really believe * or at least we want to believe * about luck, that is, it is not as random as it appears, but rather a function of the quality of the plans and the decisions we make; how hard we work; how well we prepare for the expected and the unexpected; what responsibility we take for our lives.
The monarch butterfly is, apparently, disciplined and single-minded. This insect follows a migration plan moving from Hudson Bay to Florida, Texas and California, some 3,000 miles; successive generations participate in a single migration from north to south, laying eggs and dying along the way, as new butterflies are born and pick up on the same migration route until they also stop to lay their eggs and new baby butterflies take their place. All according to plan.
Contrast the apparent approach to life of the American Cockroach. I hope there are no entomologists here to correct me but, from outward appearances at least, the cockroach seems to have adapted to its surroundings by living a completely random, unplanned life. The cockroach sleeps all day, and then comes out at night, running helter skelter, with no apparent intentional design. When it hits an object it tacks off in another direction, usually, it appears to us, in a defensive posture, not according to some positive, controlled plan.
Unlike both the monarch and the cockroach who presumably act more on instinct, humans have the choice, or free will, to work and plan, or not. But butterfly would seem to be the more appropriate metaphor for those being honored today, honored for achievements requiring planning, determination, discipline, priority-setting * not sleeping all day and coming out at night to bump from one chair leg or wall to another, looking for an escape route.
I grew up on a small, family farm in Connecticut. Every late winter/early spring I worked with my cousins and siblings to collect maple sap from buckets hung from huge maples trees all over the farm and our 200-acre woods. We collected the sap in large 50-gallon containers on a wagon pulled behind a horse. We would boil down the sap into maple syrup over a huge wood fire in a sap house* it takes 40 gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup. One late afternoon when I was about 10 or 11, my cousin and I were hurrying back from the woods with our load of about eight 50-gallon maple sap containers. We had played too long that afternoon, gotten off to a late start with our chores, and before we could get back from the woods with our sap load, it had started to get dark. We had no lights, and I was driving the horse as fast as I could trying to get back before it became pitch dark. In my rush, I cut a corner too close, and got a tree hopelessly stuck between the wagon and the wagon wheel.
I assure you that when my uncle arrived to rescue us with his tractor, in the dark, he did not commiserate about our bad luck. Only our poor planning, bad judgment, irresponsibility.
But consider: This was not the first time I had driven carelessly. This was just the time I happened to have an accident. Legal philosophers debate at length the fairness of the fact that negligent acts that cause no damage or injuries usually have no legal or moral consequences. When I drive too fast but get home safely and without an accident or a speeding ticket, I think little of it again. I might, when I notice that the speedometer registers 80 in a 55 mile per hour zone catch myself, slow down, hope I have not gotten caught in a radar trap and, if not, say to myself, "boy am I lucky." This kind of "good luck" we forget about quickly. If, however, I should happen to spin out of control as a result of driving too fast and hit another car and injure other people, the consequences would be substantial * a negligent homicide charge, tort liability for significant money damages, and tremendous remorse for the losses I caused, for which I would feel, and be, entirely responsible. The presence of the other car that this time I just happened to hit when I was speeding, is bad luck, and I'd have to live with the severe consequences for the rest of my life.
I invite you to think of what a system designed to eliminate the impact of luck would look like. Law professor Chris Schroeder proposes for example, in my speeding example, some sort of onboard computer that registers the applicable speed limit from outdoor signals and then simultaneously registers how fast you are going. If you speed, there is an automatic withdrawal from your checking account in an amount equal to the value of the estimated increase in the risks of harm attributable to drivers speeding the amount you are speeding. The money goes into a fund accessible by individuals injured by speeding motorists. Liability here is complete at the time of speeding and set by the degree of risk of your bad behavior. The moral and legal rules are structured so that your liability is not increased just because you actually cause an injury, and does not decrease just because you do not cause an injury. If this system is hard for you to imagine, this is not just because the technology seems far-fetched, it is because luck is a "given" in your calculus of human value. No harm, no foul, we say. If there is harm, then you pay.
The solution to much bad luck that comes our way, of course * such as the luck involved in speeding-related accidents, or in my accident with the horse and sap wagon * is to exercise better control, always be more careful and disciplined. Never drive carelessly or too fast. Pay attention. Plan better. Don't give in to impulse. Again, make yourself safe from luck. Which is often what I think we really mean when we wish someone good luck. Not: I hope the exam is ridiculously easy, but, I hope you've planned well, studied enough and the right thing. Not: I hope you win the lottery after graduation, but, I hope you know how to deal with the circumstances you face, make good decisions, and work hard whatever happens.
With the right technology, and with more control over our circumstances, we might reduce the impact of luck. Most of us are pretty good at that. But something else is at stake that we appropriately might consider at an honors convocation. Here, I return to Martha Nussbaum,. In her work on Greek tragedy, The Fragility of Goodness, Nussbaum points out that certain kinds of excellence, including courage, political commitment, and love of friends, can take place only by leaving ourselves vulnerable to decisions and the fate of others, that is* to external events and actions that we cannot control, plan or know. Valuable parts of our lives are formed, and certain kinds of successes achieved only by leaving ourselves dependent on external events and people, not independent or self-sufficient. Human excellence, Nussbaum writes, is "something whose very nature it is to be in need, a growing thing in the world that could not be made invulnerable and keep its own peculiar fineness." The simplest example is friendship. Investing in a friendship carries with its risks, the possibility of surprise, loss, disappointment. It also carries the potential for extraordinary benefits and life meaning. We can be made a fool of in friendship through no fault of our own, but without friendship, some of our best opportunities for human flourishing are lost.
Bad luck, we all know, presents opportunities for achievement not possible in the context of good luck. Indeed, acts of heroism arise ordinarily from bad luck: war, hurricanes, September 11. Many of the unhappiest things that can happen to us * the loss of a family member, the disappointment of a failed relationship, being the victim of a robbery * are not within our control . There is a role, often a determining role, for others, or for acts of God. When I wish you good luck, on the one hand I guess I am hoping that you won't suffer pain and disappointment. We would certainly not wish the kind of catastrophic bad luck I have mentioned on anyone. It would do no good if we did (even if wishing made a difference), since the "beneficial" effects of bad luck are possible only if what is beyond a person's control is really undesirable. But the point is: what kind of a person would any of us be if we had nothing but good luck? How would we know appreciation, resilience, empathy?
A life without an appreciation for luck is likely to be one of too much pride and too much complacency. Too much pride, because we would forget that much of which we are praised or blamed for being has happened as a result of things we did not control, or make happen. Too much complacency, because if we forever concentrate on putting luck out of play, we will shrink from testing the limits. Good tennis players understand that if they never hit double-faults or beyond the baseline, they are playing it too safe. Their game cannot rise to the next level unless they push the limits. Staying always in our comfort zones keeps us safe from failure, or luck, but it means we miss opportunities for higher-order excellence, unanticipated success, and unintended virtues.
As is so often the case, balance is probably the key. Balance between the kind of focus, intentionality, control and purposefulness necessary to reduce the effects of luck and achieve some types of success, and the kinds of risk-taking and acceptance of contingency out of which dignity, heroism, empathy, leadership and other skills and virtues can develop. When I say "good luck" to you, I wish you this balance. I wish you success, of many different kinds, some of which require good luck and some of which may be more likely to follow from bad luck. I wish you enough ambition and grit to get you through the challenges you face, and the wisdom to benefit from these challenges. I wish you control and vulnerability. I wish you, in other words, rich, whole, messy lives.
It's been a pleasure to be here. Good luck to all of you.
Katharine Bartlett is