Amb. Camara’s commencement address at the International Institute’s International Studies graduation

Good evening, class of 2026. Congratulations, you made it. And I hope you take a moment tonight to understand what that means. Commencement is often described as an ending, but its real meaning is in the name itself. It is a beginning. And beginnings are almost never clear when we're living through them. The tension between achievement, vision, and uncertainty is what I want to speak about tonight. I stand before you as someone who was born and raised in France, where commencement ceremonies, at least when I was a student, were not really a thing. Once we passed our exams, we would anxiously check our grades, which were displayed publicly in the halls of our departments for everyone to see, almost like a wall of shame. If you succeeded in obtaining your diploma, however, it was yours alone to celebrate, and there was a time and date for you individually to go to the secretary's office to pick up the actual diploma. This was usually a mean old lady with glasses who clearly did not want to be there, and who sometimes barely looked at you when she would hand you this very important document marking the beginning of your new life. So, really no fuss administrative procedure, and pretty depressing, if you ask me. So, standing here today, I am struck by the meaning of this ceremony. It is a celebration of what you have accomplished. It is also a formal recognition that you're beginning something whose shape you cannot yet know. The unknown is something I think about often in my own teaching here at the University of Michigan. I teach a course titled Great Power Competition in the 21st Century. And one of the questions we examine is how the world we live in came to be organized the way it is. Why do some countries sit at the center of global decision-making? Why do others spend decades trying to be heard? Why do certain states get to shape the rules while others are expected to live within them? One of the institutions we study is the United Nations Security Council, one of the most powerful decision-making bodies in the world. Today, we take its structure almost for granted. Five permanent members: the United States, the United Kingdom, Russia, China, and France. But, that arrangement was not inevitable. In 1944, as the Second World War was nearing its end, the foundations of the future United Nations were being negotiated at the Dumbarton Oaks. The central negotiations were led by what was then called the Big Four. The United States, the United Kingdom, the Soviet Union, and China. France was not initially at the table. Charles de Gaulle understood what that meant. If France was absent from the architecture of the postwar order, France would lose its prestige and more importantly its influence over the rules of the world being built after the catastrophe. And so, de Gaulle fought for France's place. He fought for it at a moment when France was weakened, occupied only a few years earlier, politically divided, and uncertain of its future. He fought for it even though President Franklin Roosevelt distrusted him. He fought for it even though many allies saw him as difficult, as arrogant, proud, and inconvenient. And I quote, "But de Gaulle saw something clearly. If France did not claim a role in shaping the post-war order, others would define that others would define that world without France and for France." Well, that is vision. It's not certainty. It is not comfort. It is certainly not a perfect path, but that is vision. 1945 was a moment of profound uncertainty for France, for Europe, for the world, for this new organization called the United Nations. And yet, de Gaulle acted. The path was unclear. The outcome was not guaranteed, but the vision was clear. And it paid off. In moments of uncertainty, history does not pause. The question is whether you will stand still until the world becomes easier to read, or whether you will begin with the skills, judgment, and vision you already have. As you stand at this threshold worth celebrating, the ceremony is a rare moment. It celebrates your achievements, but it also signals the unknown ahead. But uncertainty has been an integral part of the lives of the most successful men and women of our times. Uncertainty is not an obstacle to overcome. It is the condition within which vision is formed and brought to reality. Today you are entering a world that is no less uncertain. You're graduating into a moment of extraordinary change. A world of wars and democratic strain. A world in which institutions that once seemed stable now feel fragile. A world in which alliances are being tested, borders are being contested, and the very idea of truth is under pressure. Here in the United States, we now live in a country that is asking difficult questions about itself. Questions about democracy. Questions about belonging. Questions about who gets opportunity. Who gets heard. Who gets protected. And who gets left behind. And then there is the economy. Some of you are entering a job market that may feel difficult to read. On paper, there may be jobs. In practice, the path may feel less clear. You may apply for positions and hear nothing back. You may see industries changing faster than universities can name them. You may wonder whether the profession you prepared for will still look the same five years from now. And of course, you're graduating at a time when artificial intelligence and new technologies are transforming the meaning of work itself. AI is already changing how people write, how they code, research, teach, organize, diagnose, design, translate, campaign, and govern. It is changing what employers value. It is changing what skills matter. It is changing how quickly knowledge becomes outdated. It is changing the relationship between expertise and access. That can feel frightening. Because for a very long time, education seemed to offer a promise. Work hard, get the degree, master the skills, and the road ahead will become clearer. But your generation knows something more complicated. You know that a degree is powerful, but it is not a map. You know that talent matters, but it does not remove uncertainty. How about ambition? Well, it does not guarantee a straight path, and still I do not say this to discourage you. The world you are entering will not reward those who know how to follow instructions. It will reward those who can think across complexity. Those who can adapt without losing themselves. Those who can use technology without surrendering judgment to it. Those who can learn again and again and again. Those who can ask a better question when the old answers stop working. That is why vision matters. Because when the world changes quickly, a fixed plan can break. But a vision can travel. A plan says, "This is the exact job I must have in this exact city by this exact age." And I know you know what I'm talking about. A vision says, "This is the kind of contribution I want to make. These are the problems I care about. These are the values I refuse to abandon no matter what. These are the skills I will keep building. This is the direction in which I will keep moving even when the road changes. And that distinction is crucial because very few lives unfold according to the first plan. When we're children, we are asked a simple question we all had to answer when we were maybe five or six years old. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" The truth is, we did not know. We could not know. But over time, through experience, through failure, through discipline, we begin to understand what we're good at. And from that, we begin to form a vision of who we want to be. You know, growing up, I wanted to become a doctor. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to help people and I wanted to help people in Mali, my motherland. For some reason, for all the bad news we always received at home about a family member being sick or passing away from a curable disease, I always thought to myself, "This cannot be. I want to be a doctor, go to Mali, build a hospital, and help people." That was the plan. In France, for you to even envisage medical studies, you had to be good at math and science. And for the love of God, I could barely count my way out of a grocery store. So, when I was in high school, I realized that what came easily to me were languages. English, German, French literature, philosophy, communication. So, I followed the path of least resistance, and I ended up getting a baccalaureate in literature with the highest honors without working too hard for it. But then, would I become a doctor? Did I have to abandon the forever plan? Well, I eventually did. But the vision was still there in the back of my mind. Vision persists even when path shift. I still wanted to go back to my parents' country, to my homeland, Mali, to help. And so, after 2 years studying French literature in college, I had this urge. I wanted to speak English like the American singers I watch on MTV. You know what I'm saying? And so, I decided to spend a year in the United States at the age of 19 as an au pair in Concord, New Hampshire, of all places. That year abroad happened to define the rest of my life in ways I never imagined. Thanks to that year abroad and my subsequent bachelor's degree, I completed a wonderful internship at the UN Association in Washington, D.C. And through that internship, I developed relationships with the Malian Embassy, which was 5 minutes away from my internship office. There, I built connections that proved useful in my career. A few years later, I finished college, graduated with my master's degree, and returned to Washington, D.C. for in working for international NGOs focused on West Africa and Mali. Eventually, I found myself serving as Mali's Foreign Minister holding the same office once held by the Malian ambassador in Washington, D.C. who had known me years earlier as an intern. Later, as Minister of Digital Economy and as Chief of Staff to the President, I helped Mali in ways I could not have done as a doctor. That does not mean that the path was easy. It certainly was not. There were moments when I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. There were rooms I entered where I was the youngest, I was the only woman, the only person whose presence seemed to require an explanation. There were moments when the stakes were high, the information was incomplete, and the consequences of a wrong decision were very real. But by then, I had learned something that I hope you will carry with you. You do not need to know the full path before you begin walking. You need to know what kind of work gives your life meaning. You need to know what problems you're willing to stay with. You need to know what values will hold you steady when the world around you becomes loud, confusing, or unjust. For me, the path changed many times. Medical studies became French literature. French literature became diplomacy. Diplomacy became public service. Public service became teaching. But underneath all of those turns was the same basic impulse I had as a child, to be useful, to serve, and to help where I could. That is what I mean by vision. And vision is the discipline of staying faithful to what matters to you while developing the skills to meet the world as it changes. And that is what I want you to remember tonight. Today, you are entering a world no less uncertain than the one Charles de Gaulle faced in 1945. It will not give you clear path. It will not give you perfect information. And it will certainly not wait for you to feel ready. But that has never been the condition for action. Uncertainty is not new. You've actually lived with it your entire life. When you were 5 years old, you did not know who you would become. When you chose you chose your major, you did not know where it would lead. And even today, as you graduate, you do not know exactly what comes next. And yet, here you are. What has changed is not the uncertainty. What has changed is you. You now have skills. You have judgment. You have discipline, and more importantly, you have the ability to form a vision. It's not a perfect plan, not a guaranteed outcome, a vision. And that is enough. [snorts] Because in moments of uncertainty, the world is not shaped by those who wait. It is shaped by those who are willing to move. So, do not wait for clarity. It will not come. Do not wait for every door to open. Some doors will have to be pushed. And do not wait to feel ready. You will never feel completely ready. Move with what you know now. Build on what you're good at. And stay anchored in what matters to you because your path may change as mine did. But your vision, if you're honest about it, will stay with you. And over time it will take you places you cannot yet imagine. Class of 2026, you're stepping into a world that needs people who can think, decide, and act in uncertainty. So go out there and shape it. Congratulations again and forever go blue.