Conan O'Brien Needs A Friend
Hosted by Conan O'Brien
Conan delivers the 2026 Harvard commencement address.
3,064 words · 2 speakers
Speaker names marked ? are inferred from speaking time and the show’s known hosts — they are not voice-verified.
Hello, everybody. It's Matt, here with a special treat. Conan recently delivered this commencement speech at Harvard University and thought that he'd like to share it with you, the listener. So here you go. Enjoy.
Welcome!
Trustees, deans, faculty, alumni, graduates, families, my fellow honorands, Justice Department spies, and that Uber Eats driver delivering mimosas.
As I look upon this gathering of tomorrow's greatest minds, I'm confident saying, "There is no less flattering outfit than the cap and gown." We all look like the potions professor at Hogwarts.
Up here onstage, it feels like an AA meeting for Druids.
I want to thank President Garber for his incredible stewardship of this graduating class. Fantastic job, sir. Really nice. Really nice.
Normally, normally I would give you an A+, but in keeping with upcoming Harvard policy, I'm adjusting your grade to a C-.
Trust me, it's for the good of the school.
I will keep my remarks brief, because MIT's graduation is also today, and I want to give you a 15-minute head start on your job hunt.
Those nerds down the river won't know what hit 'em.
Also, just a quick announcement after the ceremony. Tequila shots are on me at the Porcellian Club! Yeah! Yeah! You're all invited. Just force your way inside and tell them Conan sent ya.
There are an understanding bunch.
As we gather here today at this beautiful Tursent Tenerife Theater, I am struck by one thought. Only someone from Harvard would call this patch of grass a Tursent Tenerife Theater. "Just look at this yard, Percival. It's a veritable Tursent Tenerife Theater."
Harvard, why use a $5 word when a $50 word will do? It's really nice to be back at the very last place I used the word "querulous" in a sentence. Standing right over there by Widener, I asked someone, "What does querulous mean?"
Fortunately, they knew the answer because it was a Yale student. Man, they're good. "Oh, please, please, let us not denigrate our fellow Ivies. Let's admit that all seven are worthy institutions. Except for Princeton, those people are absolute tools."
What the hell's going on over there?
Yeah.
As I stand here, I'm flooded with so many rich memories of this campus and especially of my dear beloved Mather House. Yeah.
Yeah, that's enough.
Mather was named after former Harvard president Ingrid Mather, who was an infamous figure in the Salem witch trials. And if any of you spent more than an hour in Mather House, you know the witches got the last laugh.
It's such an ugly building. Okay.
I'm sorry.
Tear it down, start again. Alright, here we go. Of course, we all make jokes about our school, but Harvard is still our nation's oldest and most renowned seat of higher learning. And today, you are the 375th graduating class. Yes.
Did you know that the first graduating class in 1642 had only nine students? Yeah. And somehow, even they were all legacies.
That's hard to do. No university in our nation has produced more Nobel laureates or white-collar criminals.
So whether you choose good or evil, know that you are among the very best.
Harvard is indeed an impressive place. Today, this university honors 13 esteemed colleges, and I salute all of you, each and every one. Now, of course, don't push it.
Of course, this includes the Harvard School of Dental Medicine. Yes. Yeah. And let me tell you something. When Harvard dentists say you may rinse and spit, they say it in Latin.
I wasn't gonna do that joke, but the dental school said they'd give me free veneers if I gave them a shout-out.
No, I take my assignment today seriously, and in preparation for this speech, I asked the provost's office for intel on all your concerns. And I was told the following. You're obsessed with doing laundry now that it's free.
You bemoan the lack of fresh berries. You're upset that not all the dining halls have hot breakfast. Yeah. And you are alarmed that the Kennedy School has stopped providing complimentary coffee. Yeah.
If these are indeed your concerns, you sicken me.
But half those complaints are things you'd hear from a brown bear. More berries!
Before I continue, there is one thing I must acknowledge. For your entire academic lives, you have been lectured to by lots and lots of old white men. And now, when you are minutes from getting out the door, Harvard is saying, "Not so fast! We found one more!
He graduated 41 years ago, and he's not just white, but shockingly white.
In direct sunlight, you can see his bones."
Well, I may be old and white, but let me assure you, I still fit in seamlessly with the long list of Nobel laureates, heads of state, and civil rights activists who have given this commencement address. Now, sure, they did great things, but only I play a talking potty-training gadget named Smarty Pants in the upcoming Toy Story 5 in theaters everywhere on June 19.
Did Winston Churchill do that? He did not. Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel? Well, she did audition, but testing showed she frightened children.
Yes, I graduated 40 years ago, but I promise you, your lives here were no different than mine was in 1981. Like you, I too had to put an extra-long cord on my dorm phone so I could cook my lean cuisine while talking to my friends about Mr. T. Like you, I know the pain of losing my place on the Ms. Pac-Man leaderboard because I was too busy buying an erase cartridge for my Smith Corona typewriter. Yes, we are all bound by these ancient common truths.
Now, of course, I understand the unprecedented difficulties you face today, including AI. Yeah, I know, I know. Luckily, AI is not a problem at Harvard. Here, professors have been able to quickly flag students' use of AI, thanks to the sophisticated AI software they use to grade papers. It all works out. Yeah. And don't worry. Despite your fears, trust me when I say AI cannot replace you. Yes. Yes. Yes. It'll be too busy replacing those creeps from Princeton. Anyway... Of course, perhaps the biggest issue facing this institution
is that the federal government of the United States is suing our university. Yeah. Many people think I've come today to defend Harvard. Well, sorry, those people are wrong. Not only am I not against these lawsuits, I'm here to announce that I'm joining them. I too am suing Harvard. I'm suing Harvard for the cast-iron bunk bed that greeted me upon my arrival at Hallworthy 16 my freshman year. A bed that has since been confiscated by The Hague as an instrument of divine cruelty. I'm suing Harvard for allowing me to sign up for a 9:00 AM class at the Science Center
and a 10:00 AM class down at Soldier's Field. For God's sakes, I was a child! I'm suing Harvard for my less-than-spectacular undergraduate sex life. For me having a three-way man adding a second mirror to my dorm.
I'm suing Harvard because once I had to listen to the Harvard Crocodillos do an eight-minute rendition of "Splish Splash, I Was Taking a Bath." My god, each one took a solo, and it was awful.
And finally, I'm suing Harvard because, and this is absolutely true, in the spring of my sophomore year, while trying to grab a quick lunch at Adam's House, I was served a meal...
I was served a meal called Captain Ben's Fish Spaghetti. To this day, I have no idea who Captain Ben is, or why someone would combine government-issue cod with spaghetti. Harvard, I'll see your ass in court!
Yes, I'm confident that my claims will have more merit than those filed by the President of the United States. Yes.
As you are aware, the current administration feels Harvard admits too many foreign students, and who knows, they may have a point. After all, what has any foreigner ever added to our American culture? With the possible exception of music, literature, art, cuisine, fashion, architecture, dance, scientific breakthroughs in the core of our moral codes and ethical beliefs.
Seriously.
Serious, if foreigners hadn't gummed up the works, right now we'd all be listening to delightful Calvinist reggae.
Eating savory Church of England ziti. And dancing the forbidden and sexually-charged Lutheran lumbata.
But let me assure you. I did not come here simply to toss off some jokes about my alma mater. I mean, that was the main reason. But I really do, really do love this school. It changed my life. The day I told my bedridden grandmother, a woman who had never had the opportunity to go to college, that I had been accepted to Harvard, and seeing her weep is one of the happiest days of my life. Of course, it turned out I was sitting on her leg. But I knew in addition to the pain, she felt real joy. And I felt joy as well.
Especially when I sat here at my commencement in 1985. I understand, I really understand how much hard work it took for all of you to get to this point. And you should feel enormous pride, just as I did. On my commencement day, I was content if my Harvard degree was the first thing people knew about me. But what I have found, after all these years, is that I am fine with Harvard being the last thing anyone knows about me. This is not a diss on this institution in any way.
I just believe that status, even when it's hard-won, can be double-edged. When I started my career hosting a late-night talk show, there was no internet. The only thing the media knew about Conan O'Brien was that he went to Harvard. That association may have been fine if I were a burgeoning philosopher or physicist, but for a comedian, that was a death knell. People thought the name of my show would be "Late Night with He Thinks He's Better Than You", which I would have gone with, but it didn't fit on the shirt. All these years later, Harvard is far, far from the very first thing people think of when they hear my name.
I have made 10,000 hours of content, and none of it screams Ivy League education. That's right, I'm the man who went on Hot Ones and rubbed hot sauce on my nipples. I shopped for weed with Kevin Hart and Ice Cube. I got drunk in an American Girl doll store.
I've done many things no man should do. And all of this was before I became a Pixar potty training toy. Now, some of you may think, "Well, that's comedy, Conan. How does that apply to me?" And to you, I say, "How dare you interrupt? I'm giving a commencement address." Yes, my challenges were unique to me. But I've found that any single achievement, like a Harvard diploma, becomes less important to me in all the very best ways when I embrace certain principles. The first is that I endeavor to always remind myself that I have done absolutely nothing alone. Walt Whitman wrote, "I contain multitudes."
Well, I contain a breakfast sandwich and an iced coffee from Tati. But whatever I have achieved has been with the help of an infinitely packed clown car of multitudes. If I could invite everybody, alive or dead, who has contributed to my being your commencement speaker today, all of Cambridge and half of Alston would be crammed, shoulder to shoulder, with friends, family, well wishers, writers, producers, haters, fans, and a billion chance encounters. Recognizing that my accomplishments are not just my own has given me much-needed bowels throughout my life.
And it really helps to spread the blame around when things go south. Another thing I learned to do that has saved me repeatedly is to pivot. I have had to course correct so many times in my career that my path is a crazed tangles of zigs and zags. I famously lost a job that meant the world to me. And then, years later, I saw the entire format of late-night television, something that I had dedicated my career to, start to evaporate. So, at the suggestion of a very smart friend, I started a podcast. I actually had disdain for the project until, with the help of guests, collaborators, and an assistant addicted to gummies,
I made something I loved just as much, if not more, than my late-night show. I have had to pivot like this so many times that I've come to really love pivoting. And I use the word pivot much more than I should in conversation and commencement speeches. And now I pivot to my next truth. I always recognize the enormous role of luck in my life. Refusing to see how luck has played a role in anyone's success is simply ignorant. Many people are happy to mistake a lucky poker hand for their own brilliance, and fighting that human instinct has kept me sane. I honestly believe
that community, spontaneity, and a real commitment to humility has helped me build a rich life that means much more to me than any diploma. And believe me, I'm not saying the goal is to renounce accomplishments, but rather to metabolize them. If you carry your victories lightly, other qualities—kindness, originality, courage, humor, and humanity— have room to emerge. Maybe, maybe...
Maybe the greatest lessons I've learned along these lines have been through my 24 travel shows. I have degraded myself in Cuba, Ghana, Korea, Armenia, half of Europe, Argentina, Thailand, Mexico, and Greenland, where I visited a real estate office and tried to buy the country. When I travel to another land, every quality I have discussed—community, adaptation, and a sincerely humble approach—are all necessary. When you don't speak the language, no one truly cares where you went to college, and you have no choice but to make friends. It's on these travels that I learned a great lesson: let yourself be bad at things.
I have been a bad dancer in every country I have visited. But the people laugh because it turns out everyone, everywhere, is related to at least one terrible dancer. For me, humility on these trips can easily lead to humiliation, which is also a useful tool. Three weeks ago, I visited Amsterdam, dressed up as Van Gogh, and forced my way into the Van Gogh Museum, where I started loudly demanding a cut of the merchandising because I made no money during my lifetime. Guards forcibly ejected me. I was roundly mocked by patrons for my pathetic display, but I did see a lot of smiles, and not one person said, "Now that's a Harvard grad."
In Tokyo, I met with a teacher of Japanese etiquette, who volunteered I wasn't her type. And when I asked her why, she just said, "Face."
In Ghana, after accepting a royal invitation, I was kicked out of the Ashanti Palace by the Queen Mother because her favorite soap opera was starting. I understand that I am preaching modesty and connection at a time when this is not in style. We are living through a period of extreme narcissism. Our current leadership in Washington believes that empathy is a weakness, and that our nation stands supreme and alone. Add to that, everyone here today has a phone in their pocket that is algorithmically programmed to celebrate you and you alone by making you the protein-maxing hero of
your own special journey.
Much has been written about how isolated and siloed we've become, but for me, the antidote is quite simple. By de-emphasizing what makes us special, in your case, a prized degree, we can really find one another, not as an exercise in virtue, but as a path towards greater laughter, love, and real growth. And believe me, I struggle daily with my own pretensions. I am aware that I am telling you to transcend your glories as I stand on this stage,
accepting a doctorate I didn't really earn, while dressed like a 12th-century pope. Big surprise, I have a giant ego. I mean, come on, the titles of my shows have been "A Late Night with Conan O'Brien", "The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien", Conan, where did I think of that one? Conan O'Brien Needs a Friend and Conan O'Brien Must Go. I fought like hell to have today's ceremony named "Conan O'Brien Presents: The Harvard Commencement, Starring Conan O'Brien." Yeah, let's get that done.
So when I realized that my message today would be about the rejection of honor and status, can I consider for a second turning this doctorate down? Did I say, "No, President Garber, my achievements are not my own, I must decline"? Hell, no! Not for a second. My grandfather, who everyone called Hooper, and who had to drop out of the 7th grade to support his parents, was a traffic cop in Worcester, Massachusetts. Yeah, and he had a saying, "Take what you can get and ask for more." Very wise man.
Hooper is an essential passenger in my clown car of multitudes. And in his honor, I will grab this doctorate and then ask President Garber if there's also a cash component. You see, I like you, I'm still very much a work in progress, but the ideals, I stress today, have made my life infinitely richer and happier. So maybe my wish for you is not that Harvard becomes the last thing people know about you, but instead that Harvard becomes the least important thing people know about you.
Because your real education starts now. With friends you've made and friends you've yet to meet. With stunning successes and miserable defeats. And with a humble acceptance that your greatness comes from the mess around you, not despite it. From the depths of my heart, I congratulate you, class of 2026. Not for any piece of paper you received today, but because of your hard work, determination, humanity, and the boundless community that you have and will create. Let us all resolve, on this great day,
to go forward together and see Toy Story 5 in theaters everywhere, June 19th. Thank you.
Page updated October 30, 2026 · transcript and summary are machine-generated