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Awaken
NPR journalist and author Juan Williams delivered the opening keynote address at Americans for the Arts’ conference in Milwaukee on Saturday. The theme of the conference – Living Cultural Democracy: Arts in Changing Communities – was given an interesting and uplifting frame by Mr. Williams. Though, as a journalist he might be more entitled to a cynical perspective than many of us, I found optimism and hope in his message. However, Williams issued a few admonitions as well.

Juan Williams, Keynote, 2006 Americans for the Arts Conference
Arguments extolling the value of the arts are not uncommon in keynote speeches, especially those at arts conventions. As a sector, we seem to have an insatiable hunger to be affirmed. Williams did not withhold the meal for which so many seem to hunger, but he also raised the bar somewhat. For what it’s worth, I agree that the bar should be raised.
Williams observed that people have a compelling need to understand their place in history. He declared that the arts hold up a mirror to America’s soul to tell us who we are and where we’re going. He called us to be sensitive to how people see and express themselves and to find our place within that need. The arts “create common perspectives� according to Williams. Those common perspectives are organizing principles in community-building. The arts “bridge perspectives ad create belonging.�
Change – a central theme across the conference – is “scary, comedic, and productive� according to Williams. He observed that “change at a rapid pace creates fear.� In words that could not have been truer, Williams observed that “being fearful is a part of the American experience.�
This is where a keynote speaker triggers the mind of the listener. My mind was triggered – big time.
Williams didn’t say it, but he might have gone further and declared that fear is what rules Americans. We are at the whiplash end of the politics of fear. As I reflect on Williams’ remarks, I feel ashamed that I am in a country where our leaders are willing to exploit our vulnerability and fear to advance their political agenda. I recall how the British monarchs George VI and Elizabeth – Queen Elizabeth’s parents – refused to leave London during the blitzkrieg. Though they could have fled to safety, they did not wish the poorest of their subjects to endure horror without their King and Queen beside them in their terror. I compare that to the flight to "undisclosed locations" (in both senses of the word) of Air Force One (and Two) of President (and Vice President) as they were away from Washington on both September 11th and some following days.
There were many memorable moments, stories, and ideas in Williams address, but I was particularly struck by Williams telling of the story about how Martin Luthur King was initially drawn into the civil rights movement. According to Williams, the 25-year old pastor was struggling to do all he had to do at the time. Meeting the needs of his congregation and finishing up his thesis were keeping him more than busy.
Reverend King actually was somewhat coerced into his place in history. It was instructive – and not just a little surprising to me – to hear how one of this country’s greatest men was created by the needs, the times, and the circumstances of the day. He didn’t set out to become an iconic figure, but the greatness within him was nourished by the resolve and vision of those around him, too. It made me wonder: How many people and causes are made by circumstances and times? It also made me wonder how many are un-made?
Surprisingly, Williams was unabashedly critical of his own sector: journalism. He flatly declared that the media does not promote political consciousness, but that it “encourages people to turn inward.� He described most media fare as “sleeping pills,� and contrasted the role of the arts as one that can awaken people to themselves.
Awaken people to themselves. This is a challenge worth rising to, in my opinion. Williams’ challenge to us may be bigger than we are or worse, bigger than we aspire to be. These are times when awakening Americans to their finest selves – their legacy of courage, independence, liberty, and generosity of purpose – requires a resolve so muscular and purposeful that it requires more than rhetorical blather. It calls for walk, not talk.
When I think about the waking state – that foggy territory between the surreality of dreaming and the West-slanted rays of morning light – it is apparent that one awakens personally and intimately. This transformation of consciousness is entirely one’s own. As such, it can only be owned and experienced alone.
Williams asks us to make a profoundly personal choice. He asks us – through our work - to shake the shoulders of our communities. While we can’t entirely awaken someone else, we can make it much harder to sleep.
Williams call to bridge perspectives, to awaken, to hold up a picture to America’s soul is a call worthy of commitment. It is a call that every patriotic American – left, right, or center – can answer proudly. This call can be boiled down to one word: awaken.
Williams’ words bring an entirely different and richer focus to what it means to be an American for the Arts.

