Sackville, Thursday, September 1, 2011

Let me begin by expressing my deepest thanks for conferring upon me this honorary doctorate of laws. It is a great honour to be recognized by this wonderful university, and to be welcomed into your family in this way.

And speaking of family, two of my five daughters are Mount Allison graduates—and in fact, both Debbie and Jenifer are here with us today. Quite apart from my profound gratitude for the outstanding education they received at Mount Allison, I am also grateful to you for trying to put me on an equal footing with them by granting me this degree! Though I must confess, even the power of a Mount Allison degree cannot make me the equal of my remarkable daughters.

Let me also say how glad I am to be here at the outset of a new academic year. It is always an exciting moment, so full of promise and potential. As a university president for many years, I used to greet new students with a story.

A philosophy professor stood before his class with a number of items in front of him: a large empty jar, some rocks, a box of pebbles, a box of sand and a can of Coke. When class began, he picked up the empty jar and proceeded to fill it with the rocks. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up the box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, of course, rolled into the open areas between the rocks. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. Again, they agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up the box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up whatever space was left.

The demonstration, he explained, was like life. The rocks are the important things—family, your partner, your health, your children, and, yes, even your education—anything that was so important to you that if it were lost, you would be devastated. The pebbles are the other things that matter, like a house or car. The sand is everything else, the little things in life. 

If you put the sand into the jar first, there is no room for the pebbles or the rocks. The same goes for your life. If you spend all your energy and time on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. There will always be time for the little things. Take care of the rocks first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.

There was one last item on the professor’s desk. One brave student asked, “And what about the can of Coke?”

The professor smiled and answered, “Never forget to share a cool drink with a friend.”

I would now like to take a moment to speak with you about the coming Year of Science and Discovery at Mount Allison.

It is heartening to see this important theme at the top of your agenda. As governor general, I believe that one way to build the smarter, more caring Canada we dream of is to renew our commitment to the principles of science, and to embrace a spirit of exploration and discovery. To thrive in the rapidly changing world of the 21st century, we must learn and we must innovate—and it is no exaggeration to say that our success will hinge upon our dedication to science and discovery.

Joseph Howe—a great Maritimer who counted learning among his many passions—summed up the relationship between science and discovery when he said:

“The triangle is a simple figure, yet by its properties oceans are traversed and planets measured.”

Of course, the concept of discovery extends beyond the so-called “hard” sciences to other fields such as the humanities and social sciences, and I am glad to see an emphasis on these studies at Mount Allison as well. As I often say, the value of knowledge always depends on its use, and we must ensure that our efforts are directed towards helping others and improving our individual and collective well-being.

I know that spurring positive change is what motivates the students and faculty of this university, and I want to encourage you to always maintain this focus.

An important part of this focus—indeed, a fundamental aspect of the scientific method—demands that our minds always be open to new discoveries and new evidence. Minds, like parachutes, work best when open.

Now, that is an easy thing to say, but it can also be an easy thing to lose sight of. Allow me to elaborate for a moment on the link between science and discovery—that is to say, the wondrous, often unexpected results of learning and the pursuit of knowledge.

Some of you may recall the late scientist and educator Carl Sagan, who once asked: what would have happened if, at the height of the British Empire in the 19th century, Queen Victoria had assembled the best and brightest minds at her disposal and called for the invention of television? Nothing of the kind existed at the time, but certainly such a device would have been useful—as it is today—for communicating words and images across vast distances. Would such a project have been successful?

The answer, Sagan wrote, is that despite Great Britain’s status as the world’s leading technological and financial power, such a top-down attempt to “invent” the television would almost certainly have failed. Why? Because the basic science—the basic learning—needed to transmit radio and television signals had not been done yet.

When we watch television today, few of us recall that such a thing was impossible until a Scotsman named James Clerk Maxwell discovered—quite unintentionally—that light is the result of electricity and magnetism joined together. Others soon built on his findings to discover the electromagnetic spectrum and the wavelengths it contains: all forms of light including radio waves, X-rays and gamma rays.

Radar, radio and television are the direct, if unexpected, results of James Clerk Maxwell’s desire to learn about the nature of the world around him.

Of course, things are somewhat different today, and complex research often requires a great deal of collaboration and technology—and in this you are truly fortunate to attend Mount Allison, where such an environment exists and is thriving.

The other thing I want to say about science and discovery is that it is not just the territory of the old—it is also the province of the young, especially young minds working together.

Some two decades ago, Mother Teresa came to Montréal, where we were living at the time. One of our neighbours, moved by her work with the poor in Calcutta, asked Mother Teresa how she could help. She replied: “Just look around you. In your own neighbourhood there is a family who needs your care and love.”

Shortly afterward, I read a criticism of Mother Teresa’s work. Her shelter in Calcutta gave succour to perhaps 200 people in a city where millions lived in abject poverty. Her work was described as one small drop in an ocean.

I came to this realization in an unusual way. At that time, my children were aged 2 to 9, and they were unsatisfied with the entertainment I was providing at their birthday parties. They would ask me, “Why can’t you do a magic show like Dean MacFarlane instead of telling us ghost stories that no one believes?”

In those days, Andy MacFarlane was the Dean of Journalism at the University of Western Ontario, where I was the Dean of Law. Being quite competitive, I attended the next birthday party at the MacFarlane home, where Andy was dressed as a magician, with a long cape and flowing sleeves. He was performing a magic trick, turning water into wine. He took a glass of clear water, raised it in the air, and uttered that magic phrase, “Abracadabra!” He then swept the glass into his sleeves while whirling 360 degrees, surreptitiously adding a few drops of red vegetable dye into the glass, and emerged with a glass of a lovely rose-hued liquid.

At that moment, I realized that the work Mother Teresa was doing was changing the culture of Calcutta, and indeed that of the world. It was the transformation of the water—not the addition to it—that was improving the lives of so many families.

The shortcomings of this criticism were that we were looking at her work from the point of view of physics, rather than chemistry.

To those of you who are so fortunate to be part of a new class at this thriving university, with its strong track record of community involvement, international assistance and volunteerism, I urge you to keep this story in mind. There is no doubt you can make a difference and transform our society—the only question is: how you will go about it?

As you embark upon the Year of Science and Discovery at Mount Allison, let us reflect upon the importance of constantly asking questions and improving our understanding of nature and society, while asking ourselves what role we can play in making a better world for all.

This is best captured in two of my favourite lines from George Bernard Shaw that I love to quote:

“Some people see things as they are and wonder, ‘Why?’
 We dream of things that ought to be and ask, ‘Why not?’”

Thank you.