…continued 

When you combine inner–directedness with the commitment to create value, you can achieve great worldly success, enormous career attainments. But it is the combining that is critical. I think this is what Leonardo da Vinci had in mind when he wrote: “The painter will produce pictures of little merit if he takes the works of others as his standard; but if he will apply himself to learn from the objects of nature, he will produce good results . . . he who has access to the fountain does not go to the water–pot.” I wish it were all as simple as saying: “I will dedicate myself to creating value. I will draw upon my inner resources and my own aspirations.” Unfortunately, but inescapably, all the while that you are saying this, there are forces emanating from the darker side of human nature pulling against you.

Some of those forces will express themselves through other people. There will be people who are envious of your success and, not knowing how to achieve it themselves, will try to ruin yours. There will be people whose own will to power will never be satisfied unless they exercise control over you and bend you into an other–directed person—directed, that is, toward them.

If such people pose a serious challenge, however, it is nothing like the challenges that will come from within yourself. For, as humans, you share in the darker side of human nature. In yourselves, it is bound to express itself from time to time as inertia, or just plain laziness, or a legitimate satisfaction with short–term achievements which makes you put aside your long–term goals. You may feel fine when things are going well, when the currents of change are playing into your hands. You may not feel so fine when change continues, perhaps frustrating your plans with unexpected developments and unintended consequences. If you ever forget that change is the way of the world, such frustrations may defeat you.

The fallibility and the flaws of human nature—the things that make life really tough—may sneak up on you in another way, by pushing you to extremes of behavior. Everyone, I regret to say, is abundantly familiar with some of those extremes, the ones to which we are driven by self–interest. They are sometimes familiar by personal experience, and certainly by well–known example.

Self–interest is an authentic human impulse, but (like most things) when taken to extremes it is almost uniformly destructive. Self–interest, properly conceived and controlled, is not only a natural motive. It is the very motor of capitalism. But a runaway self–interest, which erects greed into a totem to be worshipped, is—as many authors have noted—the potentially self–destructive seed buried within capitalism. In my judgment, few people start out devoting their lives exclusively to pure self–interest. But it’s a seductive siren, one whose song may sound especially sweet in tough times and amidst personal frustration in the quest to create value.

Self–interest run rampant has destroyed careers, from financiers trading on inside information to athletes using illegal drugs. But it has also destroyed nations, which mindlessly seek to extend their power or build protectionist walls around themselves in the illusion that those walls will shelter them, rather than suffocate and isolate them.

It’s time for the fourth and final paradox: true boldness lies in moderation. As pleasant as it would be to claim credit for this insight, I have to admit that another Greek, Aristotle, beat me to it by twenty–five hundred years. In any case, there is a role for self–interest, but it must be tempered by a respect for the needs of the community. And it is equally possible to veer too far in that direction as well. Countless utopian experiments have run aground on these shoals, from Brook Farm and its heirs among the communal experiments of the 1960s to certain contemporary communities of religious fanaticism.

There is a balance to be achieved here, and it’s not easy. If it were, everyone would have done it. There are times when you must go to the edge, follow your own vision regardless of the conventional wisdom and take positions that may, to other people, appear extreme. By the same token, you must also understand that the lure of extremism per se can sabotage your goals of satisfaction, fulfillment, and personal rewards. There is no advance prescription which anyone will write you that says when you must do one or the other. You must take the responsibility of setting your own course and live with the uncertainties of that responsibility in a world of constant change. Your only consolation is that letting someone else set your course and prescribe your decisions will surely deprive you of satisfaction and success.

Life is characterized by change, but that doesn’t mean it’s chaotic. In fact, it is a system, and we are all a part of it. Adding value to that system will also add to its changes. But at the same time, even as you add socially productive value to the system, you need to preserve its essential stability, in order to have some identifiable framework within which you can operate.

The boat we are all in is being driven by currents which flow from forces larger than ourselves. We must both ride the currents and preserve the boat. Nobody can stem those currents, just as nobody benefits if the boat goes under. The life of grace, that is to say, is the life that is lived for the future. The beginning of wisdom is the understanding that human history was not designed to culminate in, and for, you. The second step is the appreciation that life is often ambiguous, indeed—as I’ve argued here—paradoxical. You’ll know you’ve taken that second step when you believe—not because I said so, but because your own experience tells you—that playing it safe is dangerous, that you serve yourself by serving others, that you gain yourself when you give up your personal significance, and that boldness lies in moderation.

This occasion today is special for everyone here, and for no one more than myself. It represents not only a return to the university from which I graduated, and with which I have retained close ties. It provides me an opportunity to speak to you while standing on what I, at least, think of as hallowed ground. I trust you’ll forgive me for being a little sentimental under the circumstances. But the fact that the structure in which we are holding this ceremony is named for my grandfather has significance for me beyond the pull of family feeling.

The observations I have passed along today are rooted in a life that, I am very grateful to say, has been rich with a variety of experiences and opportunities. But one important source of inspiration behind the way that I look at the world is in fact my grandfather. Steadman Vincent Sanford was more than President of this campus and later Chancellor of the University system during the 1930s and `40s. He was, for me, an early and powerful embodiment of what I regard as the most important rules of life.

My grandfather took risks, constantly, and he dedicated his life to the creation of values for others. Most of the value he created he passed on to others. The satisfaction he gained from this life was enormous, beyond quantifying, although I could see how much it gave him. If I have understood anything of life, if I have had the advantage of living with some principles which gave me the opportunity for personal happiness and satisfaction, I owe it in the first instance to him. Passing on to you today what he taught me, by the example of his life, is the best homage to him that I could offer.

From An Address by Charles S. Sanford, Jr. - June 17, 1989 - Delivered at the Commencement Exercises of the University of Georgia - Sanford Stadium, Athens, Georgia