Opening Exercises for Freshmen, Class of 2011, 9/9/07

Remarks Delivered by
Michael D. Smith, Dean of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences

Good afternoon, and let me add my heartfelt welcome to the Harvard College Class of 2011!

I’m Mike Smith. And if you’re looking over the titles of the people on this stage, I’m probably the one person where you’re thinking, “What on earth does this guy do?”

Let me try to explain. Harvard College is the heart of the larger organism that is Harvard University.

The College, the Graduate School, where you may someday study for your Master’s or your Ph.D., the School of Engineering and Applied Sciences, where my faculty appointment resides, and the Division of Continuing Education, where you might spend a summer as a teaching assistant, together make up what is called the Faculty of Arts and Sciences.

The Faculty of Arts and Sciences along with nine professional schools and the Radcliffe Institute comprise Harvard University.

My role in all this is to make sure that the College and its students benefit from being at the heart of this large and quite complex organism.

For example, I’m here to make sure that the College doesn’t just graduate engineers trained in the foundations of biology, mathematics, and physics, but graduates well-trained engineers who are also in tune with society.

For those of you not sure of the depth of your passion for science, I encourage you to consider the Harvard College Program for Research in Science and Engineering that connects you during the summer with our science faculty, or with Harvard researchers at the Medical School, the School of Public Health, or the hospitals.

Similar kinds of opportunities exist for those of you interested in the arts or the social sciences both here and abroad.

So, how do you find such opportunities? How do you find your way in the complex organism that is Harvard?

In my view, there are at least three different ways you might respond to the complexity.

Some people respond to complexity by shutting it out. If several options present themselves, these individuals stick with what they know.

Other people respond to complexity by throwing themselves into it. They surrender, with a kind of joy, to the chaos of multiple options. They’re comfortable trying something new. They may even live their lives in some disorder, because they’re constantly being drawn towards other things.

Now, everyone is different. And each of these approaches to life has upsides and downsides.

The third approach balances the first two. The third approach means boldly exploring new opportunities—but not to the point where you lose hold of a stable center. The third approach means daring to experiment—combined with knowing when to rest. Or when to start digging deep where you are, and to let other fresh possibilities wait for another day.

I’m a computer scientist and an engineer. In my field, there’s an area of study called complexity theory. Complexity theory ponders the question: How do computer systems perform as they are asked to deal with more and more new information? At what point is the system we’ve built no longer effective?

You’ve all had the experience of downloading a huge file, or running too many programs on your computer at the same time. What happens? Your computer freezes up or might even crash. It’s trying to cope with too many jobs, and too much information, at the same time.

The right amount of complexity, however, can be beautiful. I find this to be especially true in the music that speaks to me, that moves me. J.S. Bach, for example, often used complex counterpoint to create striking pieces that nonetheless exhibit an overall shape and form, that are still human at their core. Bach embraced complexity, but did not let it consume the larger message of his music.

I hope you think about this as you begin at Harvard.

This place is complex, but it was made for you. We are here because of you. We’ve assembled the best faculty we could find. They’ve created the most interesting courses and programs that they could imagine. Your fellow students are running nearly 400 student organizations where you can revel in the arts, or sports, or politics, or nearly anything that interests you.

Outside the walls of Harvard, Cambridge and Boston beckon. Some of you may wander farther and study abroad.

So here it is, in front of you and all around you: Complexity. What will you do with it?

Explore. I hope you will jump in and explore. We’ve put the resources before you. Your job will be to actively choose which courses, which activities, which friends, which faculty members, which areas of Cambridge, Boston, or the world most speak to you.

Don’t be afraid of the complexity you see at Harvard. Put it at your service. Use it to find your voice, your music.

Today is a beginning for you—the official start to your freshman year at Harvard. A literary critic once said that there are origins, and there are beginnings. Origins we can’t do anything about—origins we are born with. Beginnings, though, we choose in our life.

I hope you will begin again and again here. I hope you will try many things new.

But I also hope you will know that it’s okay to rest. You don’t have to sample everything. You don’t have to try new things all the time. It’s okay to settle down in some really warm corners of this world—those subjects that you care most about, those extracurriculars you really want to enjoy. Those friends who turn out to be your best form of support.

I hope that you will find that third way—between turning away from complexity, and losing yourself in its whirlwind.

This is a beginning for me, too. This is my first year as Dean of the FAS. I, like you, will be starting this year learning as much as I possibly can, and trying to strike a balance between joyful exploration and digging deep where I am.

You, the Class of 2011, will always be a special class for me. We are freshmen together. I know what gifted people you are. I thank your parents and family for raising you so well. Let’s jump into this new experience together.

Welcome.