It’s a pity that so many great poems are turned into commercialized clichés because when we’ve heard something before, we don’t concentrate hard enough to listen to its messages. A good example is the classic poem “If” by Rudyard Kipling. It includes some of the best advice a parent could give a child:

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Tomorrow, I will be named Alumnus of the Year by UCLA. I’m pretty excited about it. There’s something very special about receiving a major honor from one’s Alma Mater.

But there’s a special irony as well. When I graduated from law school in 1967, I was given the honor of delivering the valedictory address on behalf of students receiving advanced degrees. My speech was controversial and enraged the Chancellor. I thought it might since I singled out by name some of the leading politicians of the day for proposing simplistic solutions to complicated problems, adding that I didn’t think our country could long withstand their sort of leadership.

Unfortunately, my youthful decision to snub my nose at convention and authority obscured my noble rhetoric designed to prod my contemporaries to take an active part in shaping our society.

I spoke of defining moments for my generation: the election and assassination of John F. Kennedy who, to quote from my address, “ripped the cobwebs from political idealism. He articulated the issues of our time and pledged to confront them with vigor and tenacity.”

Kennedy convinced us that the torch of power was now in our hands, but his sudden and premature death “brought home, with brutal eloquence, the meaning of unfulfilled promise.” But, I added, we can’t use this as an excuse to withdraw because “the complexity of our world requires, more than ever before, the leadership and impetus of its intellectuals.”

My closing words are as pertinent today as they were 42 years ago: “The phrase ‘leaders of tomorrow’ can have no application to any of us after today. Our time is now. The burden is ours. Although we know the world will never be perfect, we know it can be better. Within our heads is the power to make it so. For the sake of all of us, use that power.”

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Click here to read the full speech, which was reprinted in the Congressional Record in August 1967.

Michael has a renegade impulse and history of which many of you may not be aware. Click here to glimpse the early Michael.

Let’s be honest. Ethics is not for wimps. It’s not easy being a good person.

It’s not easy to be honest when it might be costly, to play fair when others cheat, or to keep promises that are inconvenient.

It’s not easy to stand up for our beliefs and still respect differing viewpoints.

It’s not easy to control powerful impulses, to be accountable for our attitudes and actions, to tackle unpleasant tasks, or to sacrifice the now for later.

It’s not easy to bear criticism and learn from it without getting angry, to take advice, or to admit error.

It’s not easy to feel genuine remorse and apologize sincerely or to accept an apology graciously and truly forgive.

It’s not easy to stop feeling like a victim, to resist cynicism, or to make the best of every situation.

It’s not easy to be consistently kind, to think of others first, to judge generously, or to give the benefit of the doubt.

It’s not easy to be grateful or to give without concern for reward or gratitude.

It’s not easy to fail and still keep trying, to learn from failure, to risk failing again, to start over, to lose with grace, or to be glad of another’s success.

It’s not easy to look at ourselves honestly and be accountable, to avoid excuses and rationalizations, or to resist temptations.

No, being a person of character is not easy. That’s why it’s such a lofty goal and an admirable achievement.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Disdain for money is a common theme among moralists and philosophers. But money’s not the problem. It’s what people do to get it and what they do with it when they get it.

In Fiddler on the Roof, a poor man sings of his daydreams of the wonderful life he’d have if he were a rich man. And surely it would be better. As someone once said, “I’ve been poor and I’ve been rich. Rich is better.” *

Yet the Biblical warning that “love of money is the root of all evil” reminds us to be aware of the difference between need and greed.

It’s one thing to make money a central goal to escape poverty and provide for basic necessities. It’s quite another when it becomes our primary motivation and measure of success or when we equate happiness or worthiness with wealth.

The love of money can have a powerful narcotic effect on our values. It can push us toward or keep us in unhealthy relationships and unsatisfying careers. It can lead us to undervalue the importance of relationships and work. It can make us into workaholics who neglect family and friends. And it can spawn dishonorable conduct that pollutes our souls and makes us unworthy despite our net worth

According to an old Hasidic saying, “One who thinks money can do everything is likely to do anything to get it.”

Perhaps Swiss philosopher Rousseau said it best: “The money you have can give you freedom, but the money you pursue enslaves you.”

The challenge is to put the value of money in perspective. In the end, the question is: How much are you willing to pay to have money?

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

* This famous quote has been attributed to various people including Mae West, Sophie Tucker, and Gertrude Stein.

During a seminar for teachers, I asked participants to share experiences that shaped their values. A Southern lady shared this story:

More than 50 years ago, when I was five, I was at my granddaddy's house in a dress and white gloves. He told me I could go into the kitchen and get a cookie. Next to the cookie jar was a stack of quarters. I knew I shouldn't have, but I took one. 

I must have looked guilty when I returned because my granddaddy looked at me funny and asked me to show him my white gloves. I had the quarter in my right hand so I held out my left.

"Show me the other hand," he said. When he saw the quarter, he looked at me sadly.

He hugged me and said, "Darlin', you can have anything in the world I have, but it breaks my heart that you'd ever steal it."

I'll never forget the shame, and I never stole anything again.

Her grandfather understood this was a teachable moment and didn't shy away from his duty to provide unambiguous moral guidance. And he did so in a manner that made the experience a permanent marker in his granddaughter's life.

Without harsh words or punishment, he established high standards and expectations and taught her that, because of his love for her, he was a stakeholder in her choices and that he was hurt when she let him down.

An informed healthy conscience is a built-in punishment/reward system that makes us proud when we do things right and ashamed at our moral missteps. But such a conscience doesn't develop by accident.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.