Magnificent Rectors and Rectors,
Civil, religious and military authorities,
Dear colleagues of the teaching staff and of the
technical and administrative staff,
Dear students,
Illustrious guests

I would like to extend my warmest welcome to everyone and thank you for your presence at the Inauguration of the Academic Year 2025-2026 of theUniversità Campus Bio-Medico di Roma.

I hear that one of the world's greatest tech entrepreneurs, German-American Peter Thiel, has launched an initiative to encourage talented young people to drop out of college by funding their early entry into the workforce and even supporting them in starting new businesses. The Thiel Fellowship is intended for young people aged 22 and under and offers them $200.000 over two years, plus mentorship and resources, on the condition that they drop out of college to pursue scientific research, startups, or social movements. Approximately 15 fellows are selected each year.

The dichiaraThiel's comments on the University have been explicit and provocative, calling it "empty of its content and corrupt."

The message I would like to send is simple: today, INSTEAD, the University is more important, stronger and necessary than ever, as
place of training and transmission of knowledge,
space for civil growth,
integral human project,
community of values.

Certainly, we live in a period of profound transformation: all the paradigms and logics that have held our communities together seem to be crumbling.

Technological transformation has become a permanent revolution: the cycle of obsolescence and replacement, which was once measured in years, is now dizzying.

The era of artificial intelligence is just beginning, and it already raises questions about the social, cultural, and above all ethical consequences of systems that will increasingly resemble autonomous consciousness.

And speaking of crumbling certainties, large-scale war has returned forcefully to Europe, with a devastating and tragic impact on millions of defenseless people. We thought it was a relic of the past; today we see that no country, no security architecture, and none of us is truly immune from this horrific eventuality.

Of course, these painful years are also extremely interesting: we're talking about life in space and therefore space medicine; we're beginning to read the keys to life in genomic mapping; there are those who imagine extending life expectancy well beyond a century.

The debate between the "apocalyptic" and the "integrated," as Umberto Eco called them, has returned: those who irresponsibly attack science and its foundations as if they were absolute Evil; and those who, on the contrary, think that Homo Scientificus can now do anything, even Immortality.

And at this point let us ask ourselves: what is a medieval organization, with more than eight centuries of history like the University, doing in a context like the one we have described?

So, what is the meaning of an ancient and recurring ritual that we all know and practice since we were students, such as today's inauguration of the Academic Year?

Today, as Rector of the Campus, I have the duty to begin a reflection with you.

We must have the courage to clearly say what we are, what we want to be, and what we will never stop being.

We cannot be satisfied with generic formulas.

So I'll use some keywords.

Service. Triple, inseparable

Service to students, first and foremost. Not only to satisfy their thirst for knowledge, skills, and qualifications, but to meet their need for authentic human experiences, encounters with role models. And this doesn't happen in textbooks: it happens in the corridors, in the classrooms, in the laboratories, in the relationships between teachers and students, in the example that is passed down—often without even realizing it—from one generation to the next.

Second service: to knowledge. The university has a duty that no other institution can fully replace: ensuring that knowledge advances according to its own parameters—rigor, verification, comparison, publicity and comparability of results, and open criticism.

The university must collaborate with businesses, but if it abandons reflection in pursuit of immediate profit, it ceases to be a university and becomes something else entirely. And this "something else" impoverishes everyone, including businesses themselves.

And we come to the third service: the one on fundamental values. And it's here that I want to introduce a concept that's particularly close to my heart: that of our "non-negotiable values."

Margaret Thatcher, however you judge her politically — was a woman capable of radically transforming her public image to become what History has

Remembered: the Iron Lady, indeed. She changed her posture, deepened her voice, altered her hairstyle and clothing, but she never—never—gave up the string of pearls around her neck.

When someone pointed it out to her, she would respond with disarming simplicity: "It's a gift from my husband. And it will always be with me."

This is what the “non-negotiables” are: our – your – strings of pearls.

Those things you carry with you always, that remind you who you are and where you come from, that keep you grounded even when everything around you is changing.

There's no negotiating the founding values ​​that shaped us and continue to guide us every day: we grow, we engage, we broaden our perspective. But we don't forget them or put them aside.

"Non-negotiables" don't exist in a vacuum: they need a method. And this brings us to the second key word.

Multidisciplinarity

Multidisciplinarity does not mean doing everything, or chasing every intellectual fad.

He who tries to do everything ends up doing nothing well.

Multidisciplinarity means that those who train here to become biomedical professionals study the entire human being. They study pain, hope, fragility, and resilience. They study the relationship between those who provide care and those who are treated, between the diagnosis and the person who receives and carries that diagnosis with them.

And the same goes for those who work in engineering. Algorithms capable of reading an MRI better than a tired human eye. Prosthetics that respond to thought. Devices that prolong and improve lives. But every time a student encounters these marvels, they must ask themselves: what purpose does it serve? Whose lives does it improve, and to what extent? Why do I do it—for what profound reason, not just some financial or academic incentive.

Multidisciplinarity means integrating different disciplines around a single question of meaning, which brings together rigor and compassion, technique and meaning, excellence and responsibility.

Some concrete examples.

This year we are introducing the Master's Degree in Rehabilitation Sciences for Healthcare Professions.

We have strengthened the curriculum of the Nutrition Sciences degree program – consistent with our vision: the principle of "One Health" – health as a unitary, inseparable phenomenon that embraces the person in their entirety, throughout their entire life, in the context in which they live, work, eat, move, and age.

One Health means that there is no individual health separate from the health of the community.

But there is something even deeper: each discipline does not live alongside the others — it lives within the others, and enriches them.

Think about the physical therapist and the orthopedic surgeon. Their dialogue must begin when planning the surgery, assessing functional expectations, and designing a rehabilitation program. A surgeon who knows the physical therapist works differently. A physical therapist who understands surgical logic rehabilitates better.

Think about nutritionists and oncologists. We now know how significantly nutrition influences treatment response, chemotherapy tolerance, and quality of life during and after illness. For too long, clinical nutrition has been treated as an ancillary service. We want it to be part of the diagnostic and therapeutic process.

Think of the engineer who designs a robotic exoskeleton for motor rehabilitation. His work is extraordinary—but it only becomes truly useful when he engages with the physical therapist who will use it, the neurologist who knows the patient, and the nutritionist who understands their physical condition.

And finally, consider research. When a bioengineering laboratory and a clinical department work side by side—as in this Campus, which is a single, thinking organism—the time between discovery and application is shortened. Questions become more precise and answers more useful, because they arise from the encounter between those observing the data and those observing the patient.

This is the privilege and responsibility of being in a place like the Biomedical Campus. Being part of an ecosystem, where each element grows by strengthening all the others.

And the establishment of the degree program in Speech Therapy also fits into this same spirit.

Because speech therapy isn't just the science of speech. It's, first and foremost, the belief that speech is one of the highest and most fragile human gifts; it's the ability to say "I am here," to tell oneself, to ask, to respond, to love oneself.

Our speech therapy students will learn more than just how to read a spectrogram or develop a rehabilitation plan. They will learn to understand what it means for someone to be unable to express themselves. They will learn to listen to the silence of those who long to speak.

But we didn't stop there: the comprehensive education we seek requires worthy partners—institutions that share the same vision, the same commitment.

And this is why we asked the Past Rector of the Pontifical University of the Holy Cross, Professor Don Luis Romera, to enrich our syllabuses with the knowledge and experience of the human sciences. This is not a superficial collaboration, nor a formal agreement: it is a genuine encounter between two institutions that are oriented in the same direction.

Santa Croce is a university that has made the integral formation of the person its founding rationale. Philosophy, ethics, anthropology, and theology are not ornaments to be added to an already full curriculum, but rather a backbone around which everything else takes on meaning and direction.

Together, we must invest in students who are not only competent, but also focused. Who know not only what to do, but why. And for whom.

Proximity

And here I ask you for a moment of different attention. More concentration.

When I was very young, I lived in an exceptional family. My brother had a heart condition: he couldn't do many of the things we did—run, play without limits, forget about his body. And my mother asked me, almost forced me, to stay with him.carlo Always. She devoted herself to him with total dedication, almost vanishing into that labor of love and daily accompaniment.

When my brother left us too soon, my mother realized she had neglected herself and her health for too long. And within a season, she too was gone, struck down by one of those silent, asymptomatic illnesses like certain colon cancers. And shortly thereafter, my father passed away too.

I've never told this story in public. I've kept it secret, because doing so might have seemed like giving in to pious rhetoric—and that's not what I want. I share it with you today solely for the insights it can offer.

I wouldn't be the person—I wouldn't be the father, I wouldn't be the doctor—that I am, if I hadn't been, in some way, my brother's first doctor. If that closeness hadn't shaped me before any classroom, textbook, or specialization.

So, to return to our founding values: let us always remember that every patient we meet is our brother or sister: in the care, the encouragement, and the love we pour into them every day.

There is a second lesson this story teaches us, and it concerns time: not quantity, but quality.

My family left me early, perhaps too early.

Yet I have only wonderful memories: strong, vivid memories.

You see: during your academic life, and even more so in your professional life, you often feel like you're living on a shoestring, with no time to care for yourself, your loved ones, or your family. Yet, if we look honestly at the hours we waste on distractions and superficiality, we realize that the problem isn't that "we have little time," but that "we waste a lot of it." Seneca says this in his treatise On the Brevity of Life.

And so I ask you—as Rector—to give quality to the time you spend here: humanity, depth. Don't let the years of this University slip by, like a corridor to be rushed through. This isn't a waiting room: it's already life. Every conversation with a professor, every night

over books with a colleague, every patient you meet for the first time with your hands shaking a little – all of this is already telling you who you will be.

The time we share has a specific weight: it's up to us to decide whether to fill it or leave it empty. And I'm convinced that you are here because you chose to fill it.

Selection

We, here on campus, are few: a few professors—we're less than two hundred—and a few students, around four thousand. Other universities boast populations capable of filling an entire stadium. We are a small, compact, recognizable section of the stadium.

Many days I realize that we can all look each other in the face: I know the faces of many, and of almost all of them I remember a name, a conversation, a request.

So, yes: we select. But the selection is reciprocal: the students choose us, and we choose them.

It is not a path "ad excludendum": it is a recognition and a choice.

In short, anyone who came here simply to study, take exams, graduate, specialize, and look for work probably wouldn't feel right here. And that would be a shame: for them, and for us.

What we seek—with care, patience, and a process of support that continues over the years—are those young people who have that extra spark. A sparkle in their eyes. Those who want not just to build a resume, but to have a real, positive, and lasting impact on society.

Our young resident doesn't view the patient as a test bed on which to test a therapeutic protocol. He doesn't consider the patient's family members an annoying appendage to be managed. He listens to them. He supports them when they are most vulnerable, most frightened, most in need of a genuine human presence.

This is the professional we want to train: not only the best and most prepared, but the most complete as a human being.

Internationalization

And here, too, we need to clarify. Everyone's talking about internationalization these days: public administrations, businesses, and universities.

For us, it's not just a technique of exchange or hospitality. It's above all a way of looking at the world.

It means cultivating personal, lasting, and strengthening relationships over time with researchers and professionals who, beyond latitude, nationality, and culture, share a shared feeling and values ​​very similar to ours.

It's imagining a larger community, built on values ​​and projects even more than on techniques and knowledge, that makes this planet of ours smaller. I love to say, when I meet someone I feel akin to: "This is a big planet, it's a small world," if we know how to look at it with the right eyes.

The Campus style, let me call it that, can be summed up in a few words: internationalization is an exercise in awareness—of ourselves, even before others.

We don't need to make this community larger in value in and of itself: we need to make it more intense, vibrant, extensive, visionary, resilient, active in listening and dialogue.

Transmission

Those who come from our tradition of thought and faith have read many pages that speak of seeds that bear fruit if they find the right soil, of tiny seeds that generate immense trees.

Here: this is how I would respond to those who criticize the antiquity and long duration of the University.

Our strength is being able to live science, research, and service in the here and now, while knowing how to look far ahead.

Every day we plant seeds for those who come after us. The student who studies at 3:00 a.m., not just for tomorrow's exam but because he truly wants to understand, is planting seeds. True knowledge matures over time, with the sacrifice and patient work of all of us.

The ancients knew all this well: director Ridley Scott intuited it when he inserted this phrase into a memorable scene from the film Gladiator: "Brothers, what we do in life echoes in eternity."

This is the long time of transmission. This is the time that the Biomedical Campus wants to teach you how to inhabit.

And I say this with the immense gratitude I feel towards the person who led me through my studies, towards my degree, towards my profession, and who today is sitting here among you, among us, Professor Vincenzo Denaro.

We're also working hard to strengthen our offering of postgraduate Master's degrees and Executive programs for professionals. Because professionals with ten years of experience in the field need to come back here—not to start over, but to update, deepen, and refocus.

Learning cannot be an event of youth: it must be a lifelong practice, a habit of the mind and professional conscience.

Continuous learning isn't a slogan. It's an ethical responsibility toward research and society.

But there's something even more beautiful we want to build: a vibrant, active, and generative alumni community. Those who have passed through this campus bring with them something that will never fade—a mindset, a way of being at work and in the world, a set of shared values. We want these men and women to return, meet, collaborate, share their experiences with those still in training, and in turn receive new inspiration from those who are blazing new trails.

Conclusions

In conclusion, I reiterate—to avoid any misunderstanding—the message: today we need more universities, not fewer.

There is a need for more centers of excellence, where the worlds of work, research, and teaching meet.

Service
Multidisciplinarity
Proximity
Selection
Internationalization
Transmission

Here are our keywords. Here is our compass.

But let me add one thing.

We are men and women of service. And service doesn't live in thought—it lives in action.

Knowledge alone isn't enough for us: it's a treasure locked away in a windowless room. We're interested in spreading knowledge—sharing, transmitting, igniting the same curiosity and passion in others.

And above all, we're interested in knowing how to do things. Getting your hands dirty. Getting up in the morning and doing, with courage and determination, what your values ​​dictate—even when it's hard, even when it's uncomfortable, even when no one's watching.

For us, work is not simply a social function or a source of income. It is a form of sanctification of life. It is the way in which men and women—empowered by intelligence, conscience, and faith—transform the world rather than submit to it. It is how we plant the seed, every day, for the days to come.

This is who we are. This is who we want to continue to be, together—professors, students, researchers, staff, families—on this small, extraordinary campus that faces the world with the confidence of those who know they have something precious to protect and give.

I hope I've at least partially answered the question: "What's the point of a university in today's dramatic and frenetic times?" Universities have not stopped during revolutions large and small, during the rise and fall of empires and nations, during wars and devastation. And if we're still here talking about it, there's a reason.

But the real question I want to leave you with today, and here I'm speaking especially to the young men and women who are beginning this journey, is this: "What am I doing here? How can I prepare myself to receive knowledge and experiences and, at the same time, to listen, to grow, to give, and above all, to serve? In service of whom? In service of what?"

Girls, boys, I promise you: you are not alone, and you will not be left alone on this journey.

But you will have to find the real answer within yourselves and among yourselves.

Remember the great Steve Jobs' "stay hungry, stay foolish" with the Stanford students?

Allow me to add just one recommendation, with humility and brotherhood: be courageous.

Have the courage of your studies, your sacrifices, your tenacity, even when faced with those who ask you what the point is of dedicating a good decade—including degrees, specializations, internships—to becoming a true servant of humanity.

Be brave when you hear people telling you that earning money takes just a few minutes and a few likes on social media, because your earnings aren't measured that way.

Be courageous, above all, when someone asks you to make exceptions, to abdicate, to put your values ​​aside in the name of an easy career, opportunistic shortcuts, passing fads, superficial relationships, the quid pro quo that unfortunately makes up much of today's world.

Be brave, because the Campus is here with you, and for you, to build the future together.

With these sincere - and truly heartfelt - words, which I address to you and your families,

I hereby officially declare the academic year 2025-2026 open.università Campus Bio-Medico di Roma.