[Congressional Record Volume 162, Number 89 (Tuesday, June 7, 2016)]
[Senate]
[Pages S3535-S3537]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
TRIBUTE TO DR. FREDERICK BURKLE
Mr. LEAHY. Mr. President, one of the formative parts of my life was
being a student at Saint Michael's College in Vermont. It was
especially so because of the people I met there. One of my most
memorable classmates is Dr. Frederick Burkle.
Skip Burkle was one who cared greatly about what he was learning and
showed moral leadership even then. As students, we both lived in dorms
that resembled World War II-era barracks. Fortunately, the living
conditions for students at Saint Michael's have improved since then.
Last month, now-Dr. Burkle, spoke at Saint Michael's College giving
the commencement address. Everyone who was there actually listened to a
man who spoke of his own background. He spoke also to the moral compass
he has developed both in school and since in the military and in his
scientific work.
So much could be said about his career. I agree when he said, ``My
humanitarian work was the most meaningful I've ever done.'' That makes
so much sense because few people I have ever known have begun to
approach his life as a humanitarian.
Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that his speech to the
graduating class be printed in the Record because I want those beyond
Saint Michael's College to read what an outstanding person has said.
There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in
the Record, as follows:
Saint Michael's College Commencement Address
Colchester, Vermont: May 15, 2016
frederick m. burkle, jr., md, mph
physician, scholar, humanitarian
Greetings to you all!
There are many reasons to celebrate this day. This
graduation is a milestone for you and your entire family.
Saint Michael's also needs to be celebrated and commended.
As an academic, I do not know of any other college or
university this year, or in recent memory, that has shown
both the insight and courage to declare ``Service to Others''
as the theme of graduation. Only at Saint Mikes! . . . I'm
not surprised!
The implications of this decision are many and must be
applauded . . . Most importantly it brings great hope and
wisdom for the future of this generation and those that
follow . . . .
I have been asked to speak to you on what in my life and
college experiences influenced my humanitarian career. My
first concern when asked was: How does someone who graduated
in 1961, 55 years ago, tell his story to the class of 2016? .
. . .
Let's give it a try
In truth, if you knew me in high school you would have
voted me the ``least likely graduate to ever give a
commencement address.'' . . .
I attended an all male Catholic High School in Southern
Connecticut. I was painfully shy, occasionally stuttered, was
easily embarrassed, struggled to be an average student, and
was hopelessly burdened by what is known today as severe
dyslexia. I only began to read in the 5th grade.
My Father, emphatically and loudly said ``No'' to the idea
of college. He had labeled me a ``lazy dreamer'' . . . so to
him college was a waste of good money. You would agree . . .
I was certainly not a prize academic prospect!
So here I am . . . and now I've got to explain to you how I
got onto this stage as a Commencement speaker.
I would not be here today without the help of some very
unselfish people . . . I call them my own personal
humanitarians . . . we all have them.
Not going to college was a serious blow I could not live
with. For years I had held on to an otherwise quite
impossible and secret dream of being a physician. A dream
which simply arose many years before from viewing very early
Life Magazine photos of doctors treating starving children in
an African jungle hospital.
Having been born 2 years before WWII, all my life was one
war after another with equally dire photos of both World War
II and Korean War casualties. And soon after, during high
school, emerged my generation's war . . . in a strange and
unheard of country named Viet Nam . . . a war which actually
began to build up as early as 1954.
My story, in great part, is a love story. I met an equally
shy girl when she was 13 and I was the older man of 14. We
went steady during high school and secretly dreamed of our
future together. With College off the table the military
draft seemed inevitable. She urged me to plead my case to the
High School Academic Dean, a stern gray haired Brother of
Holy Cross, to both loan me the application fee and forward a
decent recommendation. I was shaking in my boots. He silently
pondered the circumstances yet nodded his head and agreed to
accept the personal risk despite the potential anger of my
Father . . .
The very next day there was a check waiting for me!
There were others . . . while working as an orderly in a
local hospital I met two very caring physicians. They
embodied everything I wanted to be. They introduced me to a
small French Catholic Liberal Arts College named St. Michaels
in rural Vermont that I never heard of. Both were WWII
veterans who attended St. Mike's and then medical school on
the GI Bill. Despite their busy schedules they took time to
counsel and encourage, spoke highly of the quality of the
education but also cautioned that the academic experience
would demand much more.
St. Mike's was the only place I applied. With luck, I was
accepted. My girl friend's parents, not my own, took me to
campus . . . There was no turning back!
Falling in love with St. Mike's was a little slower and not
nearly as romantic! Matriculation at St. Mike's was a shock .
. . and at first a disappointment. Maybe my Father was right
. . . Will I fail and embarrass myself once again?
From the outset, the St. Mike's academic faculty made it
clear that everyone on campus was required to take 4 years of
liberal arts. This included a long list of the world's
literature, history, arts and philosophy from the beginning
of written time. This included a comparative study of all
religions, and a compelling semester of logic that forced us
to deliberate the philosophical ``how'' and ``why'' problems
that stressed the minds of every adolescent, like me, whose
brain had not yet matured . . .
It took me 3 trips to the bookstore to carry all the
required reading back to the small shared room in a former
WWII poorly heated wooden barracks that once stood where we
are today.
We desperately asked why such torture was necessary. I'm to
be a scientist. Why did I have to study the liberal arts? I
pleaded . . . something must be wrong! With my reading
disability, my anxiety level was palpable to everyone.
The science faculty made it quite clear that to pass the
rigorous requirements for recommendation to graduate school
required excellent marks in both the sciences and the liberal
arts. They offered us multiple examples of notable Statesmen
and Nobel Laureates alike who, empowered by incorporating
[[Page S3536]]
the lessons learned from the liberal arts, made major
breakthroughs for mankind . . . such as human rights, freedom
of speech, the splitting of the atom, penicillin, the Magna
Carta, the Geneva Conventions, and the U.S. Constitution
itself . . .
Slowly, St. Mike's, without my knowledge, began to hone,
tame and humble me by introducing new ways of thinking and
reasoning.
I, like all my classmates, had to give up that concrete
black and white thinking of youth to meet the demands of the
outside world.
Most students incorporated those new concepts to one degree
or another over the next 4 years. Confidence was built
through testy debates on what our increasingly complex world
demanded of us. The process re-introduced me to the academic
world I thought was unfriendly . . . and gave me a new love
for books which were once the enemy of every dyslexic
child.
Less than a month into my freshman year a profound
geopolitical event occurred that no one had anticipated or
was ready for. On October 4, 1957 we huddled around the one
radio available in the barracks to listen to the faint
battery powered beeps of the Russian satellite Sputnik. The
following day the faculty held an `all student assembly' to
discuss the impact of the satellite launch on mankind and
openly asked if any students would consider changing their
major to the sciences. The Space war had begun in earnest.
Everyone's sense of security suddenly changed and with it
many Cold War humanitarian crises sprang up around the world
. . . many of which, in a short decade, I became mired in
myself.
Every generation has their own Sputnik moments. Your
generation already has more than your share.
The liberal arts and the comparative religion courses
prepared me for my life as a humanitarian more than I ever
realized at the time.
Yes, we all read the Bible and debated its meaning . . .
but we also found a certain solace in understanding that
similar beliefs were universal among many other religions and
the cultures they were tied to.
All religions that have survived over the centuries
collectively teach ``social justice'' . . . a language all
its own that defines the fair and just relationship between
the individual and society. It is that shared social justice
that I have in common with my humanitarian and volunteer
colleagues on every continent . . . might they be Muslims,
Hindus, Christians, Jews, Buddhists, agnostics or atheists
and whether they live in the Middle East or rural Vermont.
All the major wars and multiple conflicts that I became
engulfed in over my lifetime were all fought over ``whose god
was the true god!'' Unfortunately, these wars continue today.
Admittedly, and probably somewhat selfishly, I fell in love
with the challenges of global health and humanitarian
assistance.
And yes, that shy girl friend who supported my application
to St. Mike's and I were married my first year of medical
school and we had 3 children by the time I finished my
residency at the Yale University Medical Center.
Service to one's country was mandatory then . . . and the
government obliged by drafting me into the military. In 1968
I was rapidly trained and rushed, within 20 days, into the
madness of the Viet Nam war as a Combat physician with the
Marines.
Subsequently I was recalled to active duty as a combat
physician in 5 major wars, and over the years moved up the
invisible ladder of leadership in managing conflicts in over
40 countries. I've worked for and with the World Health
Organization, the International Red Cross and multiple global
humanitarian organizations. I found myself negotiating with
numerous African warlords and despots including Saddam
Hussein in Iraq.
I set up refugee camps, treated horrific war wounds, severe
malnutrition, scurvy, the death throes of starvation, and
cholera, malaria and blackwater fever, to name but a few . .
. When I was only a few years older than you, I had to manage
the largest Bubonic Plague epidemic of the last century.
Eventually, in 2003 I served the State Department as the
Senior Health Diplomat and first Interim Minister of Health
in Iraq where I was the target of 3 assassination attempts by
the same Sunni military that now, more than a decade later,
make up today's ISIS forces in Iraq and Syria. Yes, it is
madness.
Obviously, my work was often quite dangerous. Making
uncomfortable but real decisions over who survives and who
doesn't, simply because there are scant resources, is always
a nightmare. Over 1,000 fellow humanitarian aid workers have
been killed during my time . . . many, many more than any
United Nations Peacekeepers.
I have seen more senseless death and suffering than anyone
my age should be allowed to witness. The same ``how and why''
issues that I first struggled with in Logic class at St.
Mike's were now re-framed in very basic daily struggles of
both ethics and morality.
As such, I moved more and more to care for the most
vulnerable . . . the children, women, the elderly and
disabled who make up 90% or more of those who flee or become
ill, injured or die in every war. This became my calling.
While some of this may impress the budding healthcare
professionals in the audience, everything I experienced in
war was preventable . . . it need not have happened. War is
not the answer.
But, my humanitarian work was the most meaningful I have
ever done. I have no regrets. The saving of lives when the
victims themselves have given up . . . and working with some
of the most self-less people in the world, is addictive . . .
and for a physician the adrenaline rush, intensity of the
work and the diagnostic challenges are comparable to nothing
else.
As Medical Director of the last Orphan Lift out of Saigon
in 1975, I was secretly slipped into a refugee crowded,
already surrounded and hostile Saigon during its last days to
find abandoned and ill infants . . . many alone and starving
in dank and dirty orphanages. We airlifted out 310 nameless
infants in file boxes . . . 20 years later, by chance, I met
an attractive and ebullient Asian woman, now a graduate
student who had been the valedictorian of her college class.
She was one of the infants I rescued . . . Life comes full
circle . . . it was a really good day.
The scientific research that defines my academic career has
me closely working with like-minded colleagues in Iran,
Israel, Iraq, China, the European Union and many others. And
Yes, another example of life taking full circle . . . the
Nobel Laureates, once touted in 1957 as examples for us to
emulate by the St. Mike's science Professors, selected a 2013
research study I co-authored to be presented and debated at
their World Summit in Spain last year. Good people are
listening and reading your work. So for the future academics
and scientists in the audience. . . . Never give up!
Hopefully, my now fading career allows me to reflect and
offer some parting Grand-Fatherly advice:
The essence of volunteerism is found in understanding the
culture of the people we engage with, even within our own
communities. In my experience, we did not understand the
culture of Viet Nam or Iraq, and when General Petraeus was
asked at the 10 year mark in Afghanistan what he would have
done differently he said ``I would have learned more about
the culture!'' . . .
Graduation marks your movement from the protective culture
of the campus to a culture that is more complex, unforgiving
at times, but also very exciting and worthwhile.
Most young volunteers are understandably burdened by the
non-action they have reluctantly inherited from my
generation. . . . . Burdens that shamelessly stem from
worldwide political neglect of both the health and science of
the planet.
You should be disappointed but also challenged. . . .
However, a very hopeful characteristic of your generation is
that you more often than not see yourselves less as
nationalists . . . and more as global citizens. This marks a
significant shift from my generation and a hopeful game-
changer in the global landscape.
As your volunteerism matures, use whatever bully pulpit you
have to expose and change those inequities that you see in
the world. The risk is worth it.
I spoke up in Iraq over blatant human rights violations of
the Geneva Convention and was called a ``traitor'' in the
political Press. I am most proud I made that choice.
Remember, those who do have the political power to make
change frequently do not know what they don't know.
Instinctively, all volunteers are also educators and
advocates. . . . It comes with the title.
The MOVE program, run by the Campus Ministry, and the Fire
& Rescue Squad represent realistic ``real world models'' that
one can neither assume nor get from the classroom alone. I
wish I had experienced them myself. These inspiring volunteer
initiatives have changed the culture of the College and more
broadly and accurately re-defined ``American
exceptionalism.''
Harvard, where I teach today, has recently taken a page
from the St. Mike's playbook by placing more emphasis on
accepting students to College who value caring for the
community over individual extracurricular achievements. They
claim that ``community service'' and the ethical concern for
the greater public good!'' is a more sensitive and true
measure of an applicant.
I agree! St. Mike's, emphasizing ``service to others'' has
owned and promoted this belief for many decades.
Aid to the oppressed has never stood still. Volunteerism,
in general, is increasingly moving toward prevention,
recovery and rehabilitation. . . . . Your role models must be
those distinguished recipients of the honorary degrees today.
I applaud their self-less commitments to others.
St. Mike's was an unselfish gift to me. My class of 1961
was unique in producing many leaders in science, education,
government, law, the military, industry, the social sciences,
and medicine and dentistry to name but a few. They are all
great citizens who still argue incessantly over politics . .
. some things never change. . . . nor should they!
Please promise me that you will see your classmates often .
. . call them, email them and return to the reunions . . .
it's a great time to brag and see that everyone is equally
aging and putting on weight. I do miss many of my friends and
colleagues and also the professors who I tried to model
myself on who passed away before I could thank them.
And yes, . . . as a bonus, there is another Harvard study
this year that shows that both volunteers and their
recipients increase social connections, reduce stress . . .
and live longer lives!
[[Page S3537]]
I must close now. . . . As a 31 year Navy and Marine Corp
veteran I wish to leave you with a saying that we, in the
service of our country, always thought was strictly a
nautical blessing. . . . In point of fact, it is a universal
phrase of good luck as one departs on a voyage in life. . . .
It reads: ``Let me square the yards . . . while we may . . .
and make a fair wind of it homeward''. I wish you all in this
audience ``Fair Winds and Following Seas''. . . . God speed
to you and St. Mikes . . . and thank you for listening . . .
____________________