Earlier this month, journalist Scott Pelley delivered what should have been a fairly standard commencement address at Wake Forest University. The 60 Minutes correspondent spoke about seeking truth, defending democracy, and the importance of courage in difficult times—the kind of boilerplate inspiration you’d expect from a veteran journalist addressing graduates.
But because we live in very normal times, the speech went viral over Memorial Day weekend and triggered a conservative meltdown that’s been fascinating to watch unfold.
The fury started when a pro-MAGA account clipped portions of Pelley’s speech and shared them on X, writing “Scott Pelley raged at Trump in angry, unhinged commencement address at Wake Forest.”
What did Pelley say that sent the right into such a tizzy? Well, he had the audacity to suggest that “our sacred rule of law is under attack. Journalism is under attack. Universities are under attack. Freedom of speech is under attack.” He warned of “insidious fear … reaching through our schools, our businesses, our homes, and into our private thoughts, the fear to speak in America.”
And perhaps most provocatively, Pelley criticized the administration’s attacks on diversity, equity, and inclusion programs, saying, “Diversity is now described as ‘illegal.’ Equity is to be shunned. Inclusion is a dirty word. This is an old playbook, my friends.” He also referenced “masked agents” who “abduct a college student who wrote an editorial in her college paper defending Palestinian rights and send her to a prison in Louisiana charged with nothing.”
Pelley’s speech comes as Trump is suing CBS for $20 billion over alleged “election interference” and CBS News CEO Wendy McMahon abruptly resigned, citing disagreements with the company amid the legal pressure.
What’s remarkable is how a fairly conventional call for civic engagement and democratic values could generate such hysteria. But then again, when you’re running an administration built on exactly the kind of authoritarian playbook Pelley described, I suppose any critique—no matter how measured—feels like an existential threat.
Reading the speech in full, it’s hard to see what’s so “unhinged” about urging graduates to be engaged citizens and defend democratic institutions. Unless, of course, you’re deeply invested in attacking those very institutions.
Here’s the complete transcript of Pelley’s May 19 address:
Good morning, everybody. What a beautiful day. What a beautiful North Carolina day for a graduation. Incredible. President Wente, Provost Gillespie, members of the board of trustees, and Kathy Herringer, my faculty sponsor for this precious Wake Forest honorary degree, I am honored and grateful to be with you today.
Good morning, graduates. And a special shout-out to our members of the Reserve Officer Training Corps who are going to be commissioned today in the service of their country. Thank you so much.
Oh, this has been a challenging road. You have worked. You have worried. You have wondered whether you would ever reach this day. I’m not talking to the graduates. I’m talking to the parents and the families. Why are there so many people here? Because nobody got here alone.
First, a quick word of warning. I was reporting a story for 60 Minutes not long ago, on the Webb space telescope. And I had a young astronomer. And I asked her, I said, “So what took you into astronomy?” And she said, “Well, you spoke at my college graduation.” And she went on and she said, “I was sitting there. I was graduating with a perfectly sensible degree. But as I heard you speak, I realized my love was astronomy. I re-enrolled. I have a Ph.D. in astronomy. And now I work on the Webb space telescope.” So if there is anyone here today who does not want to be an astronomer, this is the time to space out.
You know, if we were in London walking past Portland Place on a beautiful spring day, we would encounter the headquarters of the British Broadcasting Corporation, a nearly 100-year-old building from which Edward R. Murrow, the original CBS News correspondent, stood on the roof and broadcast back to America the falling bombs of fascism that fell on that free city month after month.
And if we walk a little bit further past the BBC, we will encounter another hero in the fight against fascism, George Orwell. He’ll be standing right there, frozen in bronze, with his words carved in the side of the building: “If liberty means anything at all, it means telling someone something that they don’t want to hear.”
I fear there may be some people in the audience who don’t want to hear what I have to say today. But I appreciate your forbearance in this small act of liberty. I’m a reporter, so I won’t bury the lede. Your country needs you. The country that has given you so much is calling you, the class of 2025. Your country needs you, and it needs you today.
As a reporter, I’ve learned to respect opinions. Reasonable people differ about the life of our country. And America works well when we listen to those that we disagree with, when we listen to those we disagree with and have common ground and compromise. And one thing we can all agree on, one thing, at least: America is at her best when everyone is included. To move forward, we debate, not demonize. We discuss, not destroy.
But in this moment, this moment, this morning, our sacred rule of law is under attack. Journalism is under attack. Universities are under attack. Freedom of speech is under attack. And insidious fear is reaching through our schools, our businesses, our homes, and into our private thoughts. The fear to speak in America. If our government is, in Lincoln’s phrase, “of the people, by the people, for the people,” then why are we afraid to speak?
The Wake Forest class of 1861, they did not choose their time of calling. The class of 1941 did not choose. The class of 1968 did not choose. History chose them. And now history is calling you, the class of 2025. You may not feel prepared, but you are. You are not descended of fearful people. You brought your values to school with you, and now Wake Forest has trained you to seek the truth, to find the meaning of life.
Let me tell you about three people, briefly, who I’ve met recently, who discovered the meaning of their lives in a moment of crisis not unlike what we have today. Volodymyr Zelenskiy, president of Ukraine, spent his entire career as an entertainer on television. His first elected office was president of Ukraine. And three years ago, the Russian army came at him from three directions. He had a decision to make. So he reached for the most lethal weapon in the Ukrainian arsenal: his cell phone. And he walked out in front of the presidential offices in Kyiv and made a video selfie and told his people, “I’m still here. Your army is still here. And we are going to fight,” galvanizing 44 million people instantly. And today, three years later, he is all that stands between a murderous dictator in Russia and the rest of free Europe.
I asked Zelenskiy, “Where did that come from?” And he said, “Well, you look in the mirror and you ask, ‘Who are you?’”
Nadia Murad, a young woman that we at 60 Minutes found in a refugee camp in Iraq. Her family had been murdered by ISIS. And she had been sold for money into slavery. We convinced her to tell her story on 60 Minutes, which she did. And she found her voice. And after that interview, she began to write. And then she began to speak about the crimes that women suffer in war. And a few years later, this young woman that we found in a refugee camp won the Nobel Peace Prize.
Who are you?
Finally, Dr. Sam Attar. He’s an orthopedic surgeon in Chicago, professor of surgery at Northwestern, who volunteers to do surgery in war zones—in Gaza, in Ukraine, in Syria—to try to save the lives of innocent people wounded by war, using whatever meager supplies that he has at hand. I asked him, “Where does this come from?” And Sam Attar told me, “It’s not much, but it beats burying your head in fear and ignorance.”
Who are you? Who are you? What is the meaning of life?
Today, today, great universities are threatened with ruin. So what did President Wente and Provost Gillespie do? They spoke out. They joined other institutions signing the call for constructive engagement, a declaration of the relationship between government and higher education. It reads, in part: “Institutions of higher education share a commitment to serve as centers of open inquiry, where in their pursuit of truth, faculty, students, and staff are free to exchange ideas and opinions across a full range of viewpoints without fear, without fear of retribution, censorship, or deportation.”
Who are you?
What does this make Wake Forest in this moment? Well, I think we know. Did you hear that phrase in the declaration? “Pursuit of the truth”? Why attack universities? Why attack journalism? Because ignorance works for power. First, make the truth-seekers live in fear. Sue the journalists and their companies for nothing. Then, send masked agents to abduct a college student who wrote an editorial in her college paper defending Palestinian rights, and send her to a prison in Louisiana charged with nothing. Then, move to destroy the law firms that stand up for the rights of others.
With that done, power can rewrite history with grotesque, false narratives. They can make criminals heroes and heroes criminals. Power can change the definition of the words we use to describe reality. Diversity is now described as illegal. Equity is to be shunned. Inclusion is a dirty word.
This is an old playbook, my friends. There’s nothing new in this. George Orwell, who we met on the street in London, 1949, he warned us about what he called “newspeak.” He understood that ignorance works for power. But then, it is ignorance, isn’t it, that you have repudiated every single day here at Wake Forest University.
Who are you? I think we know.
Can just speaking the truth actually work? Well, consider this day, May 19. This day, May 19, 1963, and Martin Luther King Jr.’s letter from a Birmingham jail is published for the first time. In that letter, Dr. King says that the first thing that has to be done in the pursuit of justice is collecting the facts. Power was telling him in a jail cell, “Do not speak the truth because power will crush you.”
But consider: Just months before that letter was published, Wake Forest University became the first major private institution of higher education in the South to integrate. 1962. The year after King’s letter, 1964, the Civil Rights Act is passed. The year after that, 1965, the Voting Rights Act is passed. Now, today, both of those are under attack. But can the truth win? My friends, nothing else does. It may be a long road, but the truth is coming.
Did you hear the other phrase in the declaration that was signed by President Wente and Provost Gillespie? “Without fear.” That doesn’t mean there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s an affirmation that you know who you are. You know what you stand for. And you know that in the end, in the long end, the Constitution will defend you, even in the face of fearsome times.
In the words of one of your former Wake Forest professors: “You may write me down in history with your bitter, twisted lies. You may trod me in the very dirt, but still, like dust, I’ll rise. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear, I rise into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear. I rise. Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise. I rise. I rise.”
The poet Maya Angelou taught at Wake Forest. She saw the fear that power sought to impose. And yet, in her famous phrase, she still knew why the caged bird sings.
Oh, this university, old and wise, has seen worse. It has overcome existential threats before to our country. You are not alone. A legion has gone before you. But now it is the class of 2025 that is called in another extraordinary time.
Will you permit me a word of advice? I think this is how I created at least one astronomer. Do not settle. You only get one pass at this. This world is going to tell you no a thousand times. But listen to the song in your heart. If they can’t hear it, that’s on them, not on you.
In the 1980s, I was rejected by CBS News over and over and over again over years. Again over years. They told me at one point, “Please stop applying.” They did. And at the time, I thought, “What’s wrong with these people? They couldn’t hear the song in my heart.” Maybe they were smarter. Every time I was rejected, I got better. Maybe that was the plan. But I finally made them hear the music in my heart. You only lose if you quit. Do not settle.
What is the meaning of life? Who are you? You are the educated. You are the compassionate. You are the fierce defenders of democracy, the seekers of truth, the vanguard against ignorance. You are millions strong across our land. I might be sorry that you were picked by history for this role. But maybe that was the plan. Hard times are going to make you better and going to make you stronger.
In a few minutes, when that diploma hits your hand, it’s not a piece of paper we’re giving you. We’re handing you the baton. Run with it.
Why am I here? I’m here today because I’m 50 years farther down the trail than you are. And I have doubled back this morning to tell you the one thing that I have learned from Volodymyr Zelenskiy, Nadia Murad, Sam Attar, and a thousand others. In a moment like this, when our country is in peril, don’t ask the meaning of life. Life is asking, “What’s the meaning of you?”
With great admiration for your achievement, with confidence that you will rise to this occasion, I thank you very humbly for the honor of being with you. Thank you very much.
