Robert Redford gave The 16th Nancy Hanks Lecture on Arts and Public Policy this September 9, 2003 in Washington, DC. The Lecture is a leading national forum presented by Americans for the Arts intended to stimulate dialogue on policy and social issues affecting the arts. The following is a transcript of Mr. Redford's speech.

Thank you, Pat Mitchell. You know, with introductions like that, I'm kind of tempted to stay in the wings and quit while I'm ahead.

I'd like to thank Americans for the Arts and The Film Foundation for inviting me here tonight, and I'd like to thank you for being here, and it is an honor.

I've been coming to Washington, DC, for the past 30 years, either filming here in All The President's Men, or even having the premiere here. In fact, the last time I was in this auditorium was in 1976 where we had the premiere of All The President's Men in this very theater, or for lobbying efforts on behalf of issues relating to the environment, energy, human rights, and art. In the beginning, it was a pretty heady experience to be in the halls of power surrounded by history and events, feeling what it is like to be an integral part of a democracy—particularly if you were fortunate enough to be able to move someone on an important issue.

In time, you experience changes in political climates, different attitudes and priorities. The strength of the system that controls decisions and compromises became clear over time, and expectations of success had to be tendered with failure relating to these realities. But still, you do feel fortunate to have access to the ears that make these decisions.

Even though you knew that celebrity was maybe a door opener, it nonetheless cuts both ways in politics; it's a double-edge sword, and I found that out through time. Like the time I was on the Presidential campaign trail and I was at Rutgers University and I was speaking to thousands of kids on a college campus about the importance of their vote and environmental issues. In the roar of their connection with what I was saying, I thought, hey, I'm kind of getting through here, this is pretty good. Then I walked off stage kind of heady, and immediately a reporter rushed up and stuck a microphone in my face and said, "Who do you think is better looking, you or Dan Quayle?"

So, just when you think you might be getting through or feeling your oats, reality has a way of biting and putting it all in perspective. So I don't delude myself anymore about what might be getting through or going down or not. But as a citizen and an artist, I try to remember that it is a right and a responsibility to be able to partake in the process of democracy. In fact, I think it was T.S. Eliot who had a great line. He said, "There is only the trying, the rest is not our business."

So I am here today because of my belief that art is a great translator of that which is both familiar and unfamiliar and it is really through art that we can come to know ourselves and others. To me, the vitality and insight which art brings to civil society is more important now than ever.

I grew up in a time during the Second World War when democracy was taken for granted since it was drummed into our minds as a fundamental definition of America and why it was great. In fact, that time in my life I guess shaped me in many ways because of what we were going through. And it was also a time when we were all united—you know, before interracial conflicts started, and that kind of thing, we were all united in unity for the war and its purpose, unlike the conflicts of today. And because times were tough and my family financial resources slim, living in a pretty rough part of Los Angeles, I didn't have fancy toys or luxuries like TV. So I had to be creative in inventing a world of my own, as all the kids around me did. So I found that my imagination was really the most valuable commodity and thankfully became a life force for me at a very young age. I saw the world around me not only as it was but as it could be. Art and the imagination that gave it life became my closest companions.

Before anyone was much interested in what I had to say, they were interested in what I created. As a kid, I remember sketching everything in sight. My parents and their friends would play cards and I had to be drug along because we couldn't afford a babysitter. And I just drew everything. I guess it was kind of keeping me busy, and so I began to draw them as a group—individual faces and the like. And then I guess I got bored with that and I moved under the table and began sketching their feet, at which point I think everybody started to worry that it was the beginning of a foot fetish. Even though they thought I was a bit weird, I got attention for my art at a young age.

I was not a good student academically. I spent too much time looking out the window because Los Angeles had a very, very poor school system in those days. The district that I lived in was not very high-end. The war was on. So teaching was not too inspirational then.

But I excelled in sports and in art. And my third grade teacher, second or third grade, recognized that art was a legitimate means of expression for me as I struggled with more traditional approaches.

I remember she had me come up to the front of the room and tell stories through my art. And she would put up a newsprint pad on an easel, and I would draw. As she would mention something, I would draw. I think we were studying English and she used what I drew as a basis to make a point. The whole class seemed to get it and they all seemed to learn a little bit about sentence structure and they seemed to be engaged and it made sense. And I didn't know what "it" was that they got, but it felt good.

So my teacher's encouragement of my artistic tendencies continued, making me realize that art was something legitimate to pursue and that it was integral to how I was perhaps going to find my way in this world and make sense of things. If not for this, I may have taken a path that wasn't as fulfilling and productive. My school behavior record would suggest that it would have been a disaster. But, really, that's the main reason that I'm here, to pay tribute to the work that so many of you out here tonight do every day to keep art alive in schools and in communities all across the country.

Being in this hall tonight prompted me to remember some of the writings of John F. Kennedy. I became reacquainted with a speech that he gave in 1963 at Amherst College where he was paying tribute to the American poet Robert Frost, and reflected on the value of the arts to a society. It was less than a month before his assassination.

"I look forward to an America which will reward achievement in the arts as we reward achievement in business or statecraft. I look forward to an America which will steadily raise the standards of artistic accomplishment and will steadily enlarge cultural opportunities for all our citizens." John F. Kennedy.

To me, art, in all its forms, is the purest reflection of the most diverse aspects of us as individuals, as communities, as nations, and as cultures. It's art that feeds and nurtures the soul of a society, provokes thought, inspires critical thinking, and fosters understanding of things foreign to our own immediate world. In the end, art plays a primary role in encouraging healthy tolerance of diversity in any culture. In times like these—in this very hour—more of this kind of encouragement would serve us quite well.

Joseph Campbell felt that a society without mythology was doomed. I feel the same way about the role that art can play in a society's sustainable future. On the surface, it may not have the weight of the SEC, the Department of Defense, or Social Security and other programs that may be easier to quantify, but it is still a part of the whole. And, more importantly, it exemplifies one of our great, maybe our greatest critical luxuries—freedom of expression.

Throughout the ‘80s and the ‘90s, there were a lot of battles over free expression, and they were furious and frequent. On the one side, the perception that art was undermining the moral fabric of our society began to stick and take on a life of its own and it became the order of the day. When the moralistic posturing gave way to the rationale to cut funding, for a time it was the political value of attacking the arts that increased significantly in stature. By falsely positioning the debate as one of morals and money, these forces hoped to use fear to obscure the real truth—the value of art to every community—and fear is a very dangerous platform to work off of.

I wondered then, why aren't they going after tabloid media or corporate greed with such a vengeance? Why isn't there the same fervor about the dismal state of literacy in our schools, or the AIDS epidemic, or homeless men, women, and children? Why is the zeal not pointed to the virtual flood of guns and drugs into our nation's streets, or pollution into our air and water and the resulting public health implications? When has a painting ever instigated the destruction of a culture? Is a song or a play or a painting or a photograph that much of a threat to our nation's well being? That notion seems particularly absurd in light of the larger threats we are currently facing.

Luckily, the collective voice against this trend won out and, of course, the political winds changed substantially. And while the cultural wars may have subsided, they still rear their ugly head way too frequently. But there's more than one way to strangle the arts and, today, funding cuts being discussed all across this country at all levels of government could really paint a truly devastating picture when all is said and done.

As most of you know all too well, when the economy is in as bad a shape as it is now, art becomes the "throw-away." Art and art education becomes the funding cut they feel won't have a tangible effect. In other words, it's the cut from which they think nobody is going to suffer and they think nobody will notice its absence. Well, that's not true. It may take a while to get it, but society at large will suffer, and I believe society at large will ultimately notice.

Government support for the arts is not the frivolous give-away that some would have you believe. It's a good investment and it is a sound economic development. Art and public policy is good business. Let's look at the financial stake that the government has in the arts. The nonprofit arts world is roughly a $134 billion a year industry, employing millions. It generates nearly $81 billion in spending by those who participate in its cultural offerings and is responsible for some $24 billion in taxes going back to federal, state, and local governments annually. And this doesn't take into consideration the impact the nonprofit sector has as the training ground for writers, musicians, actors, dancers, painters, photographers, filmmakers, and the like. It doesn't take into consideration the ultimate effect these people and their work have on a thriving multi-billion dollar private sector. So supporting the arts is good business and the numbers bear this out.

It's also good public policy. A study by the Justice Department, Americans for the Arts, and the National Endowment of the Arts demonstrated that arts programs helped at-risk youth stay out of trouble, perform better in school, and improve how they felt about themselves and their future. How do you put a price on that?

Yet, President Bush recommended virtually no increase for arts grants administered by the NEA. President Bush also recommended terminating funding of the Arts in Education program that is administered through the Department of Education. Education isn't important? State legislatures all across the country are making substantial cuts. Several states are proposing wiping out their entire state budget for the arts.

Are these federal and state governments missing something in turning their backs on the arts? You bet they are. We need people in office who will have a vision for our country that goes beyond the next election. We need people in office who understand that encouraging creative pursuit could be critical to any number of sectors, from the next great technological idea to the next historic medical discovery. How do you put a price on that?

Creativity is made all the more special because it is a great intangible, with no term limits, no time limits, no ending. And it can come from the most unlikely places and from those that might not fit the "traditional" model of the artist. Creativity is inherent in all great endeavors whether traditionally artistic or not, so it is creativity that must continue to be nurtured if we hope to reap the benefits of the many great minds we don't yet know. And how do you put a price on that?

Yes, there are pressing needs all around us. But completely ceasing to fund the arts is sadly shortsighted in any economy. Governments have to find a way to remain in the mix of resources for the arts and the private sector. Corporations, foundations, and individuals all need to find ways to help fill the gap during these tough times such as we're in right now.

And that includes my industry, which benefits greatly from a vital and thriving artistic force. When one thinks of Hollywood, art isn't necessarily the first thing that's going to come to mind. Some say it is often anti-art. No. It's just a business—first and foremost, a business. But it is a business that can't exist without creative talent in every facet of the making of its product. So, in the end, the challenge to create art still rests squarely on the artist and not the industry. As in any medium, sometimes we succeed and sometimes we fail, but we succeed often enough to create films that inspire, expose, transform and provoke, amuse, entertain, and even teach.

Just as all the other arts did at the moment of their conception, cinema transformed the world. For good or bad, it is a universal communicator on a global platform. Film is an indigenous American art form, even though it's always been a struggle to have it taken seriously as an art form. But we can't deny that business has significantly infiltrated the practice of art in general and, sadly, in particular film. The constant talk of grosses—dollars and cents as the benchmark of a film's worth—is very debilitating to the body of serious film discussion and appreciation, and particularly the artists themselves. After all, where would the business of film be without art as its seed?

While my business is a somewhat solid industry, it will still be important in the years to come, in my view, to embrace risks as readily as it does sure things. It must make sure that freedom of artistic expression is honored and nurtured across a broad spectrum. I believe strongly that keeping diversity alive in my industry will keep the industry itself alive.

Now, I was happy to hear the Sundance Institute mentioned tonight. The Institute is, in its way, a step toward making sure diverse voices and the creative energy they bring with them are given an opportunity to grow and evolve. Those who come to the Sundance labs to make films and those who come to the Festival to show films really are a microcosm of diverse voices that our industry needs to continue to support and nurture if it wants to maintain itself. They are also the kind of voices that will join in characterizing us to the rest of the world in the years to come. It's all connected.

After now I guess 23 years, Sundance continues to be a community work-in-progress, where success and failure are simultaneously evident, treating failure as a step toward growth rather than the destruction of a vision or a person's emotional framework. I look at the Sundance Film Festival every year, and the innovative hustle demonstrated by scores of young filmmakers to bring their vision to the screen is amazing. They haven't curled up and died just because they can't get government backing for their projects. Somehow they find a way. Like grass working its way up through a sidewalk, it will find its way, but I'm sure if I took a quick poll, I'd find that most of them found art, found their voice, in neighborhood, community, and school arts programs. That's where they first began this great dance with the wonders of creativity.

By the way, I started the Sundance Institute with a grant from the NEA. Brian Dougherty arranged for that. And it was a time when many others were more skeptical of the idea's worth. When I tried to sell it, people doubted very strongly. It took a lot of pushing. Of course, that was the seed that got me started, so I'm always going to be very grateful to the NEA for believing in me and us at the right time. It was instrumental in getting us started. It wasn't just the seed funding, but the seal of approval that gave the idea impetus. I mean, it was like, what's this guy doing, he's a movie star. And you needed that credibility. I'm not sure the movie business had it.

What most of you know that maybe others don't is that out there right now is some kid with a great song in their head we've yet to hear, or a novel in their heart that has yet to be written. There's someone out there that hasn't picked up a paintbrush yet but has a masterpiece on the horizon. There's a kid out there who hasn't picked up a camera yet but could end up making a memorable film of their time.

What most of you know that others might not clearly see is that the nurturing of creativity comes into play in everything from world diplomacy to world economics, business endeavors, social endeavors, and everything in between. It is creativity that gives all of it the nuance that often makes the difference. In all of its forms, art plays a critical role in finding our way as a people and as a culture.

As President Kennedy said that day in Amherst:

"I see little more importance to the future of our country and our civilization than full recognition of the place of the artist. If art is to nourish the roots of our culture, society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him."

This was then. I imagine today the only alteration with that would be that he would say "set the artist free to follow his or her vision."

We hear the word "freedom" bandied around a lot these days. God knows it's a sacred concept particularly for us Americans. How fortunate we are to have it. How viscerally we need to feel the commitment to protect it. To be able to be part of a freedom of expression that allows us to tell stories of "our" choice in the uniqueness of "our" own voices as citizens and as artists is not to be taken lightly. To be able to freely voice dissent in the true democratic way in our hearts or in our art is something to protect at all costs. But then the glory of art is that it cannot only survive change, it can inspire change. It is for all these reasons that it behooves governments to sustain an environment that enables, supports, and nurtures the free and creative expression of its citizenry.

I have great hope for the future of art in this civil society as I look out over this room—which is hard to do because it is dark—and I try to imagine the collective power, the collective voice that will not cower in the face of budget-slashing critics, and will not surrender its advocacy for art and free expression.

My hope comes from not only those gathered here tonight, but from the efforts of grassroots, state, and national organizations, young artists I meet at Sundance film labs, the inner-city elementary school kids who are learning to play music and write poetry, the literary and theater programs in prisons, and traveling exhibitions to rural communities all across the country.

Thank you to the co-sponsors of this evening. To Americans for the Arts, my gratitude for your tireless and effective advocacy on behalf of art and all that comes with it—you truly make a difference and we're all the better for it. And to The Film Foundation, of which I am a board member, a recognition and respect for the important work that you do to inspire young artists through education and for protecting and restoring some of the greatest films of all time and the diverse perspective of it all to live on.

Lastly, it is an honor to pay tribute to the memory and the contribution of Nancy Hanks, whom I knew and remember fondly. Nancy Hanks had a profoundly gifted perspective on cultural policy in the United States, that being access to the arts. Her legacy is the success of many, many of your programs, the creative mastery of many of the artists here tonight, and the commitment to freedom of expression that we all collectively embrace. The life she lived really meant something.

So we go forth from here tonight to continue to try to enlighten those who dismiss the arts as unnecessary, irrelevant, or dangerous. And we do so not only in the memory of Nancy Hanks, but in the name of the active and deserving imagination of every American child. Thank you.