Commencement Address for the University of Maryland School of Public Policy
by Damon Wilson, President and CEO, National Endowment for Democracy
May 21, 2026
****
Graduates, distinguished faculty, families, friends, and members of the University of Maryland School of Public Policy community—thank you for the honor of joining you today.
To the graduating class: congratulations.
Today marks more than the completion of a degree. It marks the beginning of a life in which you will be asked what kind of leader you want to be, what kind of society you want to help shape, and what kind of responsibility you are willing to carry.
And for graduates of a school of public policy, those questions could not come at a more consequential moment.
We are living through a period of profound uncertainty for democracy and freedom worldwide. Freedom has declined globally for nearly two decades straight. We are in the midst of an authoritarian assault on freedom across borders. Political rights and civil liberties continue to erode in countries around the world.
If you spend enough time reading headlines, it is easy to believe the future belongs to the bad guys—to the dictators.
But one of the great privileges of my work has been seeing something very different.
At the National Endowment for Democracy, we work alongside people on the frontlines of the struggle for freedom in some of the hardest places in the world—journalists exposing corruption, student leaders organizing peacefully, labor activists defending workers, religious leaders protecting faith, civic groups documenting abuses, entrepreneurs building independent businesses, and coders enabling activists to communicate securely—ordinary citizens refusing to surrender their dignity.
Many of them sacrifice everything for the cause of freedom. Some are imprisoned. Some live in exile, separated from their families and homelands. Some know that speaking publicly could cost them their careers, their safety, or even their lives.
And yet they continue.
Not because democracy is easy.
But because the desire for freedom is deeply human. Indeed, freedom is a universal aspiration.
I have sat across from activists who have spent years in prison and still speak not with bitterness, but with hope. I have met young political leaders who continue organizing after their friends were detained or disappeared. I have seen independent journalists continue reporting even after their outlets were shut down and their equipment confiscated.
When you encounter that kind of courage, it changes your understanding of leadership.
It also changes your understanding of public service.
And that is one reason I feel such a strong connection between NED and this university.
Over the years, many extraordinary leaders connected to NED—NED fellows such as Professor Julio Guzman—have come through this institution. The School of Public Policy has become an increasingly important center for serious thinking about democracy, governance, technology, and freedom in a global context.
You see that through the new Global Policy Institute. You see it in the university’s international student body. You see it in an upcoming democracy hackathon bringing NED partners together with technologists, and in bringing initiatives like Demo Lab’s Freedom Academy into the school.
The defining challenges of your generation—technology governance, corruption, migration, conflict, economic inequality, supply chains, artificial intelligence—will all be shaped by whether societies remain open, accountable, and free.
And while this moment may feel intimidating at times, I want to tell you clearly today: There is tremendous opportunity to make a difference. The future is not pre-determined.
Democratic change today is being driven by curious, courageous people, especially young people. The dissatisfaction of every new generation drives the innovation and reforms of the next.
In fact, this is the power of democracy. It’s the power to correct and renew itself. Not through some inevitable process, but through the determination of engaged citizens and principled leaders.
We see it in Gen Z movements helping reshape the course of history in places like Nepal, Madagascar, and Serbia.
We see it in student-led movements, like the one that toppled an authoritarian government in Bangladesh, demanding accountability, transparency, and dignity from governments that assumed young people would remain disengaged.
We see it in the extraordinary courage of citizens in Venezuela, Russia, Cuba, and Iran who continue to believe in the possibility of a freer future despite repression, censorship, and the criminalization of dissent.
At NED, we work with many of these leaders directly. And what is striking is not simply their courage—it is their persistence.
Authoritarian systems often try to convince people that nothing can change.
But democratic movements are built on the belief that people still have agency. That institutions can be rebuilt. That societies can move forward. And that even small acts of courage can accumulate into historic change.
I learned that lesson early in my own career.
I began my professional life in the humanitarian sector in the aftermath of devastating conflict—in the Balkans during the wars of the 1990s, and later in Rwanda after the genocide.
Those experiences profoundly shaped me.
When you work in societies where institutions have collapsed and violence has consumed communities, you realize very quickly that human rights and freedom are not abstract ideas discussed only in classrooms or policy papers. They are the foundation for human dignity, security, and peace.
Those early experiences eventually led me to the National Security Council and NATO headquarters and later into broader work connecting democratic resilience and US global leadership.
And over time, I realized there was a consistent throughline across everything I was doing:
The connection between freedom and security, between freedom and prosperity.
For too long, many people treated democracy and human rights as somehow separate from hard national interests. But history tells us the opposite.
Societies that protect freedoms tend to be more stable, more resilient, more innovative, and better partners for peace and prosperity.
And societies that crush freedom often export instability far beyond their borders.
That is why the defense of democracy is not simply a moral project. It is also a strategic one.
But here is what I most want to leave with you today:
Public service is bigger than government. Government matters deeply, and many of you will go on to serve in public office and public institutions.
But public service also happens through civil society, journalism, entrepreneurship, philanthropy, technology, academia, international organizations, and community leadership.
There are many ways to serve the public good. Your responsibility is not to follow someone else’s prescribed path. It is to carve your own.
You do not need to have your entire life mapped out today.
What matters is cultivating the habit of showing up with integrity, courage, curiosity, and a willingness to serve something larger than yourself.
Because your generation is inheriting enormous challenges.
But you are also inheriting enormous opportunity.
The world needs principled leaders. It needs people who can bridge divides instead of deepening them. People who combine technical expertise with moral clarity. People who understand that policy is ultimately about people.
And people willing to defend democratic values not only when it is easy—but when it is difficult.
As we mark America’s 250th anniversary of our own radical experiment in democracy, I am confident that those inspired by the founding ideals of this nation—and a commitment to their pursuit despite imperfections and setbacks—will shape a more democratic, just, and peaceful future.
So as you leave here today, I hope you will carry with you a broader understanding of what public service can mean.
Maybe you will work in government. Or run for office.
Maybe you will help rebuild institutions in fragile societies.
Maybe you will strengthen independent media, design ethical technologies, support civic movements, defend human rights, run for public office, or create entirely new models for solving public problems.
Whatever path you choose, I hope you will remember this: freedom is not self-sustaining.
Democracy is not inevitable.
In his 1982 address before the British Parliament at Westminster—the speech that helped lay the intellectual foundation for the creation of the National Endowment for Democracy—President Ronald Reagan reminded us that: “Democracy is not a fragile flower; still, it needs cultivating.”
He also understood this was a task that would “outlive our own generation.”
More than four decades later, those words still ring true. Liberty endures only when people are willing to renew it, defend it, and invest in it, generation after generation.
And now, that responsibility belongs to you.
Congratulations, Class of 2026.
We’re counting on you!
****
