Victor J. Dzau. Photo: Christopher Michel
Victor J. Dzau, president of the National Academy of Medicine, delivered commencement addresses at two ceremonies this month and received two honorary doctorates.
On May 2, he spoke at commencement exercises for students receiving master’s and doctoral degrees at the University of Michigan. Dzau also received an honorary Doctor of Science degree from the university. In his speech, Dzau described his own journey as a physician, his drive to research and develop new treatments, and his commitment to health care leadership. He reminded the graduates to be guided by their purpose in their own journeys: “Purpose can be quiet or bold, personal or global — but what matters is that it feels true to you.”
On May 18, Dzau delivered the commencement address at the Georgetown University School of Medicine, where he also received an honorary Doctor of Science degree. In anticipation of his speech, the school released a profile describing his commitment to global health, with “service as his North Star.”
In his speech to graduates at Georgetown, Dzau spoke about the importance of cura personalis, or care for the person. He described the profound role of the physician caring for patients beyond “diagnosis or discharge” and taking the time to understand the complexities of their lives and experiences. Dzau underscored that the graduates are poised to improve systems and help build the future of health care.
Caring for the whole person in today’s world means understanding both the science and the systems. It means seeing not just your patient’s symptoms, but their story. It means bringing the full measure of your skills — not just in the exam room, but at every table where decisions about health are made.
Read the full text of Dzau’s remarks at Georgetown University School of Medicine below. Watch the full recording of the address (at 28:00).
President Groves, Dean Beauchamp, esteemed faculty, honored guests, and—most importantly—the Georgetown University School of Medicine Class of 2025: what a privilege to join you on this momentous day.
Graduates, congratulations. It is a great day for you. It is a day to celebrate and a day to look forward to the next phase of your life. After years of late nights, early rounds, long hours, and moments of uncertainty you have arrived at this important moment. You deserve a heartfelt round of applause.
Let us also recognize who stood by you along the way: your parents, partners, families, and loved ones. If you’re here today, would you please stand? Graduates, let’s thank them with a round of applause.
Today marks both a culmination as well as a beginning. You are entering one of the most rewarding and impactful professions in the world. Let it be an adventure—one I hope continues to inspire and fulfill you throughout your life.
Your education here at Georgetown has prepared you well for this moment. Cura personalis—“care for the whole person”—is not just a phrase, but a philosophy deeply embedded in you.
This is one of the most profound responsibilities in medicine. It lies at the heart of our social contract. Society grants physicians a unique level of trust and respect—but that trust is not unconditional. It rests on the understanding that we will use our expertise not only to heal illness, but to serve our patients as “a whole person” and address their broader needs and the needs of the communities.
The word ‘healing’ itself is rooted in Old English and related to the German word heilen, meaning to make sound or to make whole. At its core, medicine is not only about curing disease—it is about restoring wholeness, dignity, and hope.
Just last week, the world welcomed a new spiritual leader in the Catholic Church, Pope Leo XIV—formerly Cardinal Robert Prevost. In his first public address, he emphasized the need for a Church that is, in his words, “always open to receiving with open arms for everyone… to all who need our charity, our presence, dialogue, love.”
His call to compassion speaks directly to the values you’ve learned here at Georgetown. Cura personalis—care for the whole person—is not only about empathy; it is about proximity, solidarity, and justice. It asks us to look beyond the clinical chart and see the fullness of the human experience. To understand not only what a patient needs medically, but who they are, what they carry, and what may be holding them back from healing.
In this way, medicine is more than a profession. It is a vocation. It is a ministry of presence—a chance to embody the values of dignity and care that Pope Leo XIV now calls the world to embrace.
Over the past four years, you’ve had the unique privilege of serving the community of Washington, DC—a city of striking contrasts. Residents of Ward 3 can expect to live 15 years longer than those across the river in Ward 8. Median income for white residents is nearly triple that of Black residents.
These disparities aren’t just numbers—they’re daily realities that shape health, opportunity, and life itself. And they are also the result of broader social forces. Where someone lives, their jobs and income, the quality of their housing, their access to education, the availability of nutritious food, safe neighborhoods, clean air, reliable transportation—all these shape health long before a patient ever steps into a doctor’s office.
Hippocrates is believed to have said, “It is far more important to know what sort of person has a disease than to know what sort of disease a person has.” That wisdom endures. Effective care requires more than medical knowledge—it requires understanding your patient’s story, values, and circumstances.
True cura personalis means understanding that our responsibility does not end with diagnosis or discharge. You must try to understand not only how the patients’ social condition contributes to their health or their illnesses, but also the systemic privileges or inequities which drive these factors.
And you must move beyond understanding to action. This means connecting your patients with the resources that help them heal—counseling, outreach, social support–or advocating for these partnerships within your system. It also means using your insight to work with community government, state or national legislators..
Here, I would like to talk about the importance of policy.
Of course, in treating patients here in the nation’s capital, you also know that Washington, DC, is more than just a community. It is the heart of the nation’s political life—a place where the personal and the political intersect every day. Decisions made in federal buildings ripple into exam rooms and emergency departments. Debates over healthcare policy have immediate consequences for the patients you serve.
It is important to carry this awareness with you. You are entering your careers with clear insight into the dual nature of your work: caring for individual patients, yes—but also recognizing how policy, politics, and systems shape the conditions of health long before someone walks into your clinic or hospital. Curas Personalis!
At the National Academy of Medicine, our mission is to advise the nation and inform the policies that protect and promote health. We believe science and evidence must guide decisions that affect people’s lives. And we believe that your voice—rooted in compassion, grounded in science —has never been more essential. There is a vital role for scientists and clinicians to help translate knowledge into practical policy. I hope you’ll embrace that charge—and lead the way.
Of course, you are also entering the profession at a moment of profound complexity. In recent years, political and policy actions have reshaped health care, from research and delivery to public trust. The nation’s well-being has become a central—and contentious—topic, through the lens of the COVID-19 pandemic and vaccine rollout, the opioid crisis, mental health, rising rates of chronic illness, and even campaigns like “Make America Healthy Again.”
This is a challenge, to be sure. But it is also an extraordinary opportunity. More than ever, our health care system is a kitchen table topic. Conversations are happening all around us—at townhalls, community centers, and statehouses.
In those conversations, your voice matters. Your perspective matters. You will be witnesses not just to what medicine can do, but to what it must become. And you are not bound by tradition or old assumptions. You have the freedom—and the responsibility—to imagine a better future, and the courage to help build it.
That perspective gives you a powerful role: not only to heal, but to lead. To bridge the gap between discovery and delivery, between innovation and real-world impact. It calls on you to be proactive—to ask hard questions, to push for better systems, and to ensure that the benefits of science reach every patient, everywhere.
Finally, it is important to develop trust with your patients and the public amidst growing skepticism in science, medicine, and public institutions. In today’s world, trust in science and medicine is not granted by title or degree. It must be earned—through humility, respect, and transparency. To gain trust, you must meet your patients where they are. This requires not just talking but listening; being willing to hear their concerns without judgement. It means asking the right questions and giving them time to feel comfortable enough to answer.
Imagine if each one of us did this consistently and took the time to build trust before a crisis occurs? These individual efforts can go a long way in building preparedness and resiliency within our communities.
This is how you give back: by using your knowledge, your compassion, and your voice to shape a future where health is not a privilege, but a human right.
Let me share briefly why this matters so deeply to me.
In the 1950s, my family and I fled Communist China and began a new life in Hong Kong as refugees. It was a time of great uncertainty. We lived in a single, cramped room—no bathroom or reliable access to clean water and very little security. Diseases like tuberculosis were prevalent, but resources were scarce, and opportunity felt out of reach.
In those early years, I saw how profoundly health is shaped not just by medicine, but by the world around us—by environment, by access, by opportunity, and by justice—or the absence of it.
That experience didn’t just shape my life’s view; it inspired my path.
As my career progressed, I sought broader opportunities to make a difference—from Chair of Medicine to Chancellor of a health system, and now as President of the National Academy of Medicine. My childhood experiences have driven my every step, with the belief that we must use science not only to treat illness, but to transform the structures that shape health.
That conviction brings me back to what you have learned here: cura personalis.
Caring for the whole person in today’s world means understanding both the science and the systems. It means seeing not just your patient’s symptoms, but their story. It means bringing the full measure of your skills—not just in the exam room, but at every table where decisions about health are made.
And importantly, it means asking not only, What is the right treatment?—but also, Who can access it? Who is being left behind? What social forces are shaping this outcome? And, most importantly, What can I do about it?
Class of 2025: The world is ready for your leadership. It needs your compassion, your courage, and your brilliance. Keep asking big questions. Get involved. Find solutions beyond the examining room and clinics. Help make a better society. Carry the ethos of cura personalis with you—and help build the future of medicine we know is possible.
Congratulations—I can’t wait to see what you’ll do next.
