somewhere i have never traveled. . .: May 2012

In reflecting upon the significance of this year at Harvard Law School, an image returned to me from my very first week at Cambridge. As part of our LL.M. orientation, we went on the now-familiar Boston Duck Tour. The amphibious bus took us around the city, and eventually, drove right into Boston Harbor. Above the din of the engine of that bus-turned-boat, we watched as the U.S.S. Constitution came into view, with colorful flags flying on that fine sunny day. It was a magnificent ship, one that Oliver Wendel Holmes, Sr., father of the great American jurist, called “the eagle of the sea.” I imagined it gliding into Boston Harbor, sails billowing, majestic against the sky.

Not more than nine months ago, my classmates and I set sail from every corner of the globe, across oceans and continents, most of us already “eagles of the sea.” Yet finding ourselves in this most tranquil of ports, we were awed and overwhelmed at the breadth of what Harvard Law School had to offer. The intellectual journey was clear enough: our classes spanned the spectrum of law as we knew it, from Indigenous Peoples Rights, to Comparative Constitutional Law, to Mergers & Acquisitions, to International Finance. We discussed and debated with giants in these fields, and our work even brought us to far away places, like Ghana, Thailand, Libya, and Brazil. And throughout these experiences, there was a silent yet perceptible feeling of gratitude and privilege for having been chosen, in place of thousands of others, to participate in this unique journey. Indeed, in the last months, I have heard the statement said over and over again: “Only at Harvard. Only here at Harvard Law School.”

But this journey was not confined to the lofty intellectual perches of the classroom or Langdel Hall. Realizing very early the truth behind the old adage, in vino veritas, we lost no time in organizing socials, dinners, and gatherings, both big and small, to mark every stage of this shared journey. And throughout the laughter and the gaiety, there emerged a comfortable camaraderie and an awareness of, and sensitivity towards, the cultures and concerns that marked the countries from whence we all came. Indeed, we shared food and drink, but we also shared stories of the grave inequality between the rich and poor in Brazil, of the seemingly insurmountable struggle against corruption in the Philippines, of the fight for an independent Supreme Court in Pakistan, of the hopes, fears and frustrations of the Greek people with the inauguration of a new government and the continuing instability in the European economies.

Through these many encounters, shared in a spirit of friendship and openness, we understood an entirely new face of the law— law beyond our own parochial understandings; law beyond “my country,” and “my system.” But what is more remarkable is the almost universal realization that no matter how diverse our experiences, no matter how alien and seemingly contrasting our origins, we were actually bound by the same basic hopes and motivations, the same anxieties and fears.

No doubt, we live in a world of great political and economic challenges. From re-stabilizing the Middle East after the glorious yet tumultuous Arab Spring, to re-stabilizing world markets following the 2008 Global Financial Crisis, solutions will require not only creativity but also great courage. I would like to believe that we, who choose to participate in this struggle, will not be overwhelmed by the task, confident as we are, not only with the knowledge that we have gained here, but also with the insight that we are not alone in our efforts. We will be encouraged by the reality that colleagues and friends, not so different from us, are toiling away in distant lands, working for the same ideals, facing the same frustrations, and ultimately, sharing the same shared joys and triumphs.

This is how the law school has marked us. It has made us appreciate more keenly the complexities and sinews of the law, yes, but it has also provided us, through our contact we so many other people from so many other cultures and backgrounds, a broader context against which this complexity is to be understood and ultimately applied. In the end, the time here at the law school has made us understand a little bit more of what “being in the world” and of “being in the world with others” truly means. Dean Minow often speaks of Living Well in the Law. If that be the measure of our experience, then we have indeed lived well in the law here at Harvard, and we have lived it well with others.

Allow me to end, therefore, with another image, one more recent in the class’ collective memory. Not too long ago, many of us stood at the roof deck of the Harvard Science Center, gawking in the half darkness in our jackets and scarves, as we stood overlooking the lovely Cambridge skyline, gazing up at the night sky. We went stargazing. And while we may not have seen many stars that night, it was, I think a worthwhile symbol of what we ultimately found here at the law school. For that evening at least, we were not lawyers buried in our books or rushing our papers. We were lawyers looking up.

As we prepare to set sail for broader horizons and more treacherous seas, may we, as sons and daughters of Harvard, always remember to look up, especially in moments when we are lost and dishearted, to search for that ever fixed mark to which every lawyer aspires: Non sub homine sed sub Deo et Lege. Not under man but under God and Law. Let this ideal be our guiding star, our purpose and vision that directs our work and our passions. President Faust reminded us this morning that with our efforts here at the law school, “[we] are ready to aid in the shaping and application of those wise restraints that make men free.” Let us strive, therefore, as we go forth hence, to be true “to the greatest of all sciences, the science of justice, and the greatest of all arts, the art of adjusting the rights of men.”