On 'serendipity': A letter to the Class of 2025
Editor's note: At a time when most emails feel like chores, a message from Ron Seyb whisks readers into a more thoughtful yet serendipitous world.
The associate professor of political science 鈥 this year's faculty speaker at Commencement 鈥 is known for humorous emails and handwritten letters filled with lines from pop culture and historical references that interject wisdom and levity into the everyday.
After more than three decades of service to 小福利导航, the prolific man of letters is retiring in May but not before addressing the Class of 2025 during 小福利导航' College's 114th Commencement Exercises on Saturday, May 17.
We asked if he might first put his quill to parchment for the graduating class. With characteristic enthusiasm, he agreed, writing: 鈥淎s Alan Shepard said when he was invited to join the Mercury program, 鈥楽ounds dangerous. Count me in.鈥"
Dear Class of 2025 Co-Conspirators,
I recognize that writing a letter to you when every reputable astrologer holds that
鈥渄igital is rising鈥 is akin to throwing a cuneiform-inscribed stone tablet at you:
It will likely merely prompt confusion and leave you with a nasty knot on your head.
I have, nonetheless, decided to be heterodox at this pivotal moment in your lives
because, as Dorothy Parker, the acid-tongued wit of the Jazz Age, often said, 鈥淟et鈥檚
go wild! There鈥檚 plenty of time to do nothing once you鈥檙e dead.鈥 (As an aside, Ms.
Parker鈥檚 epitaph reads, 鈥淓xcuse my dust.鈥)
Your accomplishments, accolades, and arresting cool have inspired me to 鈥済o wild.鈥
All of you are on a course 鈥渢o infinity and beyond.鈥 I hence will not presume to offer
you any advice (though you would be foolish if you did not start stockpiling Kohl鈥檚
Cash). I will in the following simply make an observation. After all, that is how
Galileo got his start.
I learned the word 鈥渟erendipity鈥 in college. I do not recall which instructor used
it to make a point about the role that chance plays in human affairs. I only remember
that when I heard this word, I thought, 鈥淚 am never going use 鈥榗hance鈥 or 鈥榗ontingent鈥
or 鈥榬andom鈥 again.鈥 I was convinced that if I could shoehorn serendipity into as many
sentences as possible, my auditors would conclude that I was a sophisticate.
Needless to say, my gambit failed. Dropping serendipity into sentences elicited from
those whom I wished to impress not gasps of awe but quizzical looks, curled lips,
and condescending comments (e.g., 鈥淲hat other words did you learn from reading 'Encyclopedia
Brown Investigates?'鈥).
I, nevertheless, continue to maintain that serendipity is the most accurate way to
characterize the warp and woof of our days. It is, of course, grand to have a plan.
All those encouragements you have received to practice 鈥渟trategic planning,鈥 鈥渓ong-range
planning,鈥 and 鈥渙ver the horizon thinking鈥 were not misleading or malicious.
Planning, however, if it is treated as a fetish rather than as an approach to help
you achieve your goals, can run afoul of 鈥淭he (John) Lennon Principle: 鈥淟ife is what
happens when you鈥檙e busy making other plans鈥 (Vladimir Lenin, in contrast, was big
on planning. Whatever happened to that guy?)
The political scientist Charles Lindblom once published an article 鈥 back at a time
when we thought that we would be wearing unbreathable polyester jumpsuits, eating
freeze-dried food, and frequenting jet pack dealerships in the 21st century 鈥 called
鈥淭he Science of Muddling Through.鈥
Lindblom argued that effective policymakers solve problems incrementally. 鈥淪erial
processing鈥 (i.e., first making a small decision, analyzing its consequences, making
modest changes in response to this feedback, and then rinsing and repeating) was superior
to what Lindblom called 鈥渟ynoptic鈥 or comprehensive planning. He claimed that policymakers
who tried to pursue comprehensive, rationalizing plans often succeeded in making their
organizations more brittle, less adaptable, and more likely to generate unanticipated
consequences.
As my immaculate, inimitable, and impossible-to-best wife (particularly in an argument
鈥 but that is the subject for a letter to my life coach), Professor Grace Burton,
often says to her first-year students, 鈥淵our life up to now has proceeded in a straight
line. What did you do after you finished first grade? You attended the second grade.
What did you do after you finished the second grade? You attended the third grade鈥.鈥
These past four years have allowed you to be completely responsible for your choices.
Your graduation is incontrovertible evidence that you have discharged this responsibility
with success and sangfroid. The choices, however, will continue to rush at you like
that infernal Wells Fargo Wagon in "The Music Man." It is likely that many times you
will echo David Byrne by asking, 鈥淗ow did I get here?鈥 The answer to that question
is 鈥 wait for it 鈥 wait for it 鈥 serendipity.
Uncertainty is disquieting. Immeasurable uncertainty is terrifying (but perhaps I
understate). Embracing what actors call 鈥渢he in between鈥 is, however, the way to discovery,
self-knowledge, and even fulfillment. The well-planned life is tidy but arid.
Rigid planners are likely to fail more often than they succeed. They are also more
likely to commit a cardinal sin: They will bore blind those around them. (My religious
training was 鈥 uh 鈥 incomplete.) I urge all of you to harness your 小福利导航 education
to become well-rounded, interesting, eclectic, empathic, and witty (though try to
be nimble- rather than acid-tongued) people.
The siren鈥檚 song of specialization will certainly tempt you. Just remember that sometimes
lashing yourself to the mast of the liberal arts is the best way to get home.
As Abraham Lincoln said at the end of his first inaugural address, 鈥淚 am loath to
close.鈥 I suspect, however, that you, my gentle (or perhaps 鈥渦nsettled鈥) readers,
are keen for me to conclude. (Former president Bill Clinton once received cacophonous
applause by saying at the end of an interminable speech, 鈥淎nd in conclusion ...鈥)
I shall hence not detain you any longer. You have mountains to climb, streams to
ford, and rainbows to follow. (Forgive me for the self-indulgent "Sound of Music"
reference. Baroness Schraeder insisted.) I will simply conclude by quoting that trenchant
and nimble-tongued social commentator, Gracie Abrams: 鈥淚 love you 鈥 I鈥檓 sorry.鈥
Yours truly,
Ron Seyb
Associate Professor of Political Science