I heard the boos before I saw the faces. A donor onstage smiled like nothing was happening while hundreds of students hissed back a sentence about an unavoidable future. I sat there thinking: if you’re going to warn people about change, don’t sound like you’re collecting the toll.
I’m going to be blunt with you: I’ve listened to a lot of commencement speeches, and when a speaker treats a graduating class like an economic resource to be harvested, you shouldn’t be surprised when they revolt. You’re the audience and the workforce they’re addressing — so let’s unpack what went wrong at these podiums and how both sides could do better.
At Middle Tennessee State, officials renamed the media college after a $15 million donor before commencement began.
Scott Borchetta, founder of Big Machine Label Group and listed at about $450 million (€414 million), took the stage and framed AI the way he once framed streaming: a threat that smart operators should weaponize. He asked grads to treat new tech as a tool and implied those who refuse will ultimately “pay” for their refusal. That framing — blunt, competitive, unapologetically winner-takes-most — landed like a match in dry tinder: a speech that promised opportunity felt to many like a threat dressed as advice.
Why did students boo Scott Borchetta?
The boos came because his pitch read less like mentorship and more like a victory lap. You can hear the logic — he’d shaped a profitable stance in the streaming era while many artists struggled under the rollout of services like Spotify — but when you tell fresh graduates their slice will shrink unless they hustle harder, the room suspects you’re defending your slice, not theirs. It’s a credibility mismatch: students expect empathy, or at least humility, from someone asking them to accept loss as a condition of survival.
Spotify rewired the music economy; the press still measures who gained and who didn’t.
When streaming rose, it stabilized labels even as payout patterns favored established names — a fact chronicled by outlets such as The New York Times and felt by many artists. That episode is now the reference point when executives tell you to embrace AI. The New York Fed report that followed recent commencement controversies is blunt: 90% of firms report some AI deployment, many CEOs report plans for smaller staffs, and some admit to preferring experienced hires over newer ones.
Is AI a threat to jobs for graduates?
Yes and no. The technology will change job tasks and hiring patterns — companies like Google, platforms like GitHub Copilot and OpenAI products, and streaming services have already reshaped work in visible ways — but change doesn’t translate automatically into broad unemployment. The risk is unevenness: some roles will grow, others will shrink, and the winners are often those with influence or capital. That’s why students booed: the warning felt like a redistribution of risk rather than sound counsel.
At least three recent commencement addresses met with audible pushback from students and alumni.
Speakers from different backgrounds — a real estate exec, a record executive, a former Google CEO — ran into the same problem: they spoke from a place of power without answering the emotional question in the room. You can say AI is inevitable; you must also answer: how does this affect my class’s paychecks, creative control, and dignity? When you ignore that, your advice becomes an edict.
If I were coaching a speaker, here’s what I’d say to you: start by admitting unfairness. Tell one specific story of a trade you made while building your career. Offer tools that students can actually use — not abstract exhortations — like courses on working with AI tools (GitHub Copilot, cloud compute services, AI-aware project management), clearer advocacy for artists and workers on platforms such as Spotify, and realistic pathways for reskilling. Say what you’ll do to help, not just what they must do to survive.
How should graduates respond to AI and advice from wealthy executives?
You should listen, but triangulate. Treat every heroic origin story as a case study, not a playbook. Ask concrete questions about compensation, contract terms, platform economics, and how companies plan to share value. Build networks, learn the specific tools people actually use, and push for collective protections where markets funnel value upward. Don’t let advice from high-net-worth speakers substitute for your own negotiating power.
I’ve seen commencement stages become hunting grounds and heard speeches turn into bargaining chips; you deserve counsel that recognizes risk without savoring it. If speakers want your attention, they’ll have to stop congratulating themselves and start offering you concrete, fair answers — or do you think the boos will keep teaching them the lesson?