Quo Vadis? Where Are We Going? (#760)

An ancient question for a modern world.

As I grow older, I find myself spending more time reflecting on the past and, perhaps surprisingly, thinking about the future.

Not so much my own future, but the future of the people, institutions, professions, and natural world that have been important to me throughout my life.

For much of my professional career, I was preoccupied with the immediate demands of veterinary medicine, teaching, research, and the responsibilities that accompany an academic appointment.

There was always another patient to examine, another student to mentor, another lecture to prepare, or another problem to solve.

Life was largely about what needed to be done next.

Retirement has provided something that was often in short supply during those years: time to observe, reflect, question, and, occasionally, challenge.

I have found myself writing increasingly about subjects that concern me:

The commercialization of veterinary medicine.

The changing character of universities.

The influence of wealth and philanthropy on institutional decisions.

The erosion of shared governance.

The pursuit of profit at the expense of professional values.

And, perhaps most troubling of all, our seemingly inexhaustible capacity to damage the natural world upon which we depend.

My recent involvement in discussions surrounding the renaming of the UC Davis School of Veterinary Medicine has brought many of these concerns into particularly sharp focus.

The renaming has raised questions that extend well beyond the merits of a generous philanthropic donation or the suitability of a particular name.

It has prompted me to reflect on the nature of institutional leadership, the responsibilities of faculty representatives, the distinction between confidentiality and secrecy, and the meaning of shared governance.

Who has the authority to determine the direction of a university?

Who should participate in decisions that affect its identity, traditions, and future?

And what happens when the formal procedures of consultation are observed without providing meaningful opportunities for stakeholders to influence the outcome?

These are not simply administrative questions.

These questions concern the fundamental values upon which universities are built.

I also think about my grandchildren and the world they will inherit.

Will they enjoy the same opportunities that I have enjoyed?

Will the institutions we have entrusted with education, scientific discovery, and public service remain worthy of that trust?

Will the extraordinary diversity of life on Earth still be there for them to discover and appreciate?

I do not believe that the past was necessarily better than the present, nor that change is inherently undesirable.

Indeed, I have witnessed remarkable advances in medicine, science, technology, and our understanding of the natural world.

Much of that progress has been genuinely beneficial.

But progress and improvement are not necessarily synonymous.

And change, however inevitable, is not always a change for the better.

These reflections have brought me back to a Latin phrase that I first encountered many years ago.

Quo vadis?

Where are you going?

Two words.

One deceptively simple question.

It is a question that can be directed toward an individual, a profession, a university, a government, or an entire civilization.

It invites us to consider not simply where we are heading, but why we have chosen that direction and whether we are comfortable with the destination.

The question has a history stretching back nearly two thousand years. Its origins offer a particularly compelling lesson about personal responsibility, moral courage, and the willingness to change direction.

And it seems to me that, in our increasingly complicated and rapidly changing world, it is a question we should be asking much more frequently.

The Origins of Quo Vadis

The phrase Quo vadis? is most famously associated with a story from early Christian tradition.

According to the apocryphal Acts of Peter, the apostle Peter was fleeing Rome to escape persecution under the Emperor Nero. As he traveled along the Appian Way, he encountered a vision of the risen Jesus walking in the opposite direction, toward the city.

Peter asked, Domine, quo vadis? (Lord, where are you going?).

Jesus replied that he was going to Rome to be crucified again.

Peter understood the response as a challenge to his own decision to flee. He turned around, returned to Rome, and, according to Christian tradition, eventually suffered martyrdom.

Whether understood as a historical event or a religious allegory, the story raises a fundamental question about the relationship between personal safety, moral responsibility, and the courage to act according to one's convictions.

Peter's question was ostensibly about the direction in which Jesus was traveling.

In reality, it became a question about the direction of Peter's own life.

Sometimes, asking where someone else is going forces us to reconsider where we are going ourselves.

Quo Vadis: The Novel

In 1896, the Polish author Henryk Sienkiewicz published his historical novel Quo Vadis, set in Rome during the reign of Nero.

The novel follows Marcus Vinicius, a young Roman aristocrat, and his love for Lygia, a Christian woman whose beliefs challenge everything he has been taught about power, wealth, and privilege.

Their relationship unfolds against the backdrop of imperial extravagance, political corruption, the Great Fire of Rome, and the persecution of Christians.

Sienkiewicz contrasts two competing systems of values:

One is characterized by the pursuit of power, material wealth, personal gratification, and unquestioning obedience to authority.

The other emphasizes compassion, humility, sacrifice, and responsibility toward others.

The novel is not simply a story about the conflict between paganism and Christianity. It is an exploration of what happens when a society loses its moral compass.

Sienkiewicz was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1905, in recognition of his achievements as an epic writer.

The novel has inspired numerous adaptations, including the spectacular 1951 MGM film directed by Mervyn LeRoy, starring Robert Taylor as Marcus Vinicius, Deborah Kerr as Lygia, and Peter Ustinov in a memorable portrayal of Nero.

Yet beneath the elaborate costumes, magnificent sets, and cinematic spectacle, the central question remains unchanged.

Where are we going, and what values are guiding us?

Quo Vadis: A Question for Our Times

We live in an age of extraordinary technological achievement.

We can communicate almost instantaneously with people on the other side of the planet.

We can explore distant worlds, manipulate genetic material, develop artificial intelligence, and treat diseases that were once considered incurable.

Our capacity to accomplish remarkable things has never been greater.

But our technological progress has not necessarily been accompanied by comparable advances in wisdom, compassion, or ethical responsibility.

We have become remarkably proficient at asking Can we do this? while devoting considerably less attention to Should we do this?

We measure economic growth, corporate profits, productivity, and technological innovation. We celebrate the accumulation of wealth and reward those who achieve positions of power.

But how do we measure kindness, integrity, fairness, generosity, or the health of the natural world?

And what happens when the things we can measure become more important than the things we ought to value?

The question Quo vadis? invites us to examine not merely our progress but the direction of that progress.

After all, moving faster is not necessarily an achievement if we are traveling in the wrong direction.

Quo Vadis: Our Institutions and Shared Governance

Universities occupy a distinctive place in society. They are not simply businesses that produce graduates, research publications, and intellectual property. They are communities of scholars, students, staff, and alumni, united by a commitment to education, the pursuit of knowledge, academic freedom, and service to society.

Their governance should reflect that distinctive character.

Historically, universities have been entrusted with the pursuit of knowledge, the education of future generations, the encouragement of independent thought, and the advancement of the public good.

Yet universities increasingly operate in an environment dominated by financial pressures, competition for prestige, institutional branding, corporate partnerships, and the pursuit of philanthropic donations.

None of these activities is inherently objectionable. Universities require financial resources, and philanthropy can support extraordinary achievements.

The danger arises when the acquisition of resources begins to influence an institution's fundamental values or when financial considerations take precedence over academic principles.

This is where shared governance becomes particularly important.

Shared governance recognizes that responsibility for the direction of a university should be distributed among those who contribute to its mission. It does not mean that every decision must be made by consensus, nor does it eliminate the legitimate authority of university administrators.

Rather, it requires that decisions affecting the academic mission and institutional identity be informed by meaningful consultation with the appropriate stakeholders.

And meaningful consultation must occur before decisions are made, while there is still an opportunity to influence the outcome.

A university cannot reasonably claim to embrace shared governance if its leaders determine the destination, establish the route, and then invite stakeholders to comment after the journey is already underway.

Nor can the existence of a representative committee, by itself, establish that shared governance has occurred. The effectiveness of such a committee depends on the quality of its deliberations, the independence of its members, the adequacy of the information available to them, and their ability to represent the interests of their constituents.

Confidentiality may sometimes be necessary, particularly when discussions involve sensitive financial information or negotiations with external parties. But confidentiality should protect the integrity of a decision-making process, not become a means of excluding stakeholders from that process.

When confidentiality prevents representatives from consulting those they represent, it risks undermining the very purpose of representative governance.

The recent renaming of the UC Davis School of Veterinary Medicine illustrates why these distinctions matter.

The Faculty Executive Committee was instructed to maintain strict confidentiality during its consideration of the proposed renaming. Its deliberation on the issue lasted approximately ten minutes, and its conclusions were not shared with the broader faculty before the naming decision was finalized.

The question is not simply whether the committee was consulted or whether the university complied with its formal procedural obligations.

The more important question is whether the process fulfilled the underlying principles of shared governance.

Did the faculty have a meaningful opportunity to participate in a decision affecting the identity of their school?

Were differing perspectives actively sought and considered?

Could the outcome realistically have been influenced by the consultation?

These questions are particularly important because an institution's name is more than a branding opportunity. It represents its history, identity, collective achievements, and aspirations.

A philanthropic gift may provide the financial resources to advance an institution's mission.

But financial generosity should not diminish the importance of institutional accountability or the responsibilities of those entrusted with governance.

Indeed, the greater the significance of a decision, the stronger the argument for meaningful participation.

This brings us back to Quo Vadis.

The question is not simply where university leaders wish to take their institutions.

It is whether they are willing to engage the university community in determining that direction.

Leadership involves more than possessing the authority to make decisions.

Leadership requires the judgment to recognize when others should participate, the humility to listen to dissenting opinions, and the courage to reconsider a course of action when legitimate concerns are raised.

Shared governance is not an impediment to effective leadership.

Properly practiced, shared governance is one of the foundations of effective leadership.

And it is not merely a matter of ensuring that the correct procedures have been followed. It is about respecting the people whose collective efforts have built an institution and whose continuing commitment will determine its future.

A university belongs to more than those who happen to occupy its leadership positions at a particular moment in time.

Its leaders are temporary custodians of something that existed before their arrival and will, one hopes, endure long after their departure.

They have a responsibility not only to manage the institution but also to preserve the principles that make it worthy of public trust.

Quo vadis?

Where is this university going?

And who has been invited to help choose the destination?

Quo Vadis: The Veterinary Profession

The same question applies to veterinary medicine.

During my professional lifetime, I have witnessed extraordinary advances in veterinary education, diagnostic imaging, surgery, neurology, oncology, and the treatment of diseases that were once considered untreatable.

These achievements have transformed the quality of care we can provide to animals.

But the profession has also undergone profound structural and economic changes.

Corporate ownership has expanded, the cost of veterinary education has increased, veterinary services have become more expensive, and financial performance has assumed an increasingly prominent role in determining how veterinary practices operate.

Some of these developments have brought genuine benefits. Corporate investment can provide access to sophisticated equipment, administrative support, and opportunities for professional development.

But it can also introduce tensions between financial objectives and professional responsibilities.

When revenue targets, productivity measures, and profit margins become dominant considerations, we must ask whether the fundamental purpose of veterinary medicine is being preserved.

Are we developing a profession that places animals, their owners, and veterinary professionals at the center of its purpose?

Or are we gradually allowing financial performance to define what constitutes success?

The answer is not necessarily one or the other. Financial sustainability and professional responsibility can coexist.

But achieving that balance requires us to know where we want to go.

It also requires that those who practice veterinary medicine have a meaningful voice in determining the profession's direction.

The principles underlying shared governance are not confined to universities.

Professional independence, meaningful participation, transparency, and accountability are equally relevant to veterinary practices, professional associations, and the corporations that increasingly influence veterinary care.

A profession that relinquishes its ability to determine its own priorities risks becoming an instrument of interests that may not always align with its ethical responsibilities.

Quo vadis?

Where is our profession going, and who is deciding its future?

Quo Vadis: Our Planet

Perhaps the most consequential application of this ancient question concerns our relationship with the natural world.

Human activities are transforming the planet at an unprecedented rate.

Climate change, habitat destruction, biodiversity loss, pollution, and the overexploitation of natural resources are not isolated environmental problems. They are interconnected consequences of the way we have chosen to organize our societies and economies.

We continue to treat economic growth as an almost unquestionable objective, even when that growth depends upon the depletion of natural resources and the degradation of ecosystems.

We have become extraordinarily successful at extracting what we want from the natural world, but considerably less successful at accepting responsibility for what we leave behind.

And the consequences are increasingly difficult to ignore.

The question is no longer simply whether we possess the scientific knowledge and technological capabilities to address these problems. In many cases, we do.

The more difficult question is whether we possess the collective will to change direction.

Here, too, the principles of shared responsibility and collective decision-making have relevance.

The future of our planet should not be determined solely by the immediate interests of those who possess the greatest wealth, political influence, or economic power.

It is a shared inheritance, and its stewardship requires us to consider the interests of communities, other species, and generations that have yet to be born.

Quo vadis?

Where are we going, and what sort of planet will we leave for those who follow us?

Quo Vadis: A Personal Question

There is also a more intimate dimension to these two Latin words.

As we grow older, the question of where we are going inevitably acquires a different meaning.

During our younger years, life is often defined by destinations. We pursue qualifications, establish careers, build families, accumulate possessions, and work toward professional and personal achievements.

We tend to measure progress by what we accomplish and what we acquire.

Later in life, the questions begin to change.

What have I contributed? Whose lives have I touched? Have I remained faithful to my principles? Have I made the world a little better than I found it?

And perhaps most importantly, what do I want to do with the time that remains?

For me, retirement has provided an opportunity to reconsider my priorities, explore new interests, share my experiences, and contribute in ways that were not always possible during the demands of a professional career.

Writing and illustrating children's books has allowed me to share my love of animals and the natural world with a younger generation. Writing essays has provided an opportunity to examine issues that concern me and to participate in discussions about the future of the institutions and professions to which I have devoted much of my life.

I no longer have the same professional responsibilities that once determined the structure of my days. But I still feel a responsibility to question, to contribute, and, when necessary, to challenge decisions that I believe deserve closer examination.

I recognize that my opinions will not always be shared by others. Nor do I assume that the experience accumulated over a long career necessarily confers wisdom.

But experience does provide perspective, and retirement offers a certain independence that can make it easier to express that perspective without concern for professional advancement or institutional approval.

We may no longer be traveling toward the destinations that once seemed so important. But that does not mean we have stopped moving.

Indeed, it may be the first time in our lives that we have the freedom to choose our direction without the constraints of ambition, professional expectations, or the need for recognition.

The destination becomes less important than the purpose of the journey.

The Courage to Turn Around

What I find most compelling about the story of Peter on the Appian Way is not the question he asked, but what he did after receiving an answer.

He turned around.

There is something profoundly important about that simple act.

We often associate progress with moving forward. To reverse direction can be interpreted as an admission of failure, a sign of weakness, or an inability to persevere.

Political leaders are reluctant to reverse policies.

Corporate executives resist abandoning strategies in which they have invested considerable resources.

Institutions defend decisions long after their original justification has become questionable.

Individuals, too, can find it difficult to acknowledge that the path they have chosen is no longer the right one.

Yet the ability to change direction is not necessarily a weakness. It can be an expression of wisdom, integrity, and courage.

This is particularly relevant to institutional leadership and shared governance.

The purpose of consultation is not simply to secure agreement with a decision that has already been made. It is to expose a proposal to different perspectives, identify potential problems, and allow the possibility that the original course of action may need to be modified or abandoned.

If those in authority are unwilling to reconsider their decisions, consultation becomes little more than a ceremonial exercise.

Genuine shared governance requires leaders to accept that they may not always have the best answer and that the collective wisdom of an institution may lead to a different conclusion from the one they initially preferred.

It also requires faculty representatives to exercise independent judgment and, when necessary, to challenge those in positions of authority.

The important question is not whether we have remained steadfast in our original direction, but whether that direction continues to be consistent with our values.

Sometimes, the most meaningful form of progress requires us to turn around.

The Question That Matters

Quo vadis? is not a question that can be answered once and then forgotten.

It is a question we ought to ask repeatedly, both individually and collectively.

It should inform the decisions of our political leaders, the priorities of our educational institutions, the responsibilities of our professions, and our relationship with the natural world.

It should also guide the choices we make in our personal lives.

We cannot always predict where a particular path will lead, and we will inevitably make mistakes along the way. But we can examine the values that guide our decisions, consider their consequences, and remain willing to change direction when circumstances demand it.

For individuals, this requires self-reflection.

For institutions, it requires transparency, accountability, and shared governance.

For society, it requires a willingness to consider the interests of those who will inherit the consequences of our decisions.

Perhaps the greatest danger is not that we might choose the wrong destination, but that we might become so preoccupied with moving forward that we forget to question where we are going.

Two thousand years after Peter's encounter on the Appian Way, his question remains as relevant as ever.

Quo vadis?

But when we ask that question of those entrusted with leadership, we should also ask another.

Who decided where we are going, and were the rest of us invited to help choose the destination?

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