2013-06-18T20:59:51-04:00 Jake Townsend http://www.huffingtonpost.com/author/index.php?author=jake-townsend Copyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc. HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Jake Townsend Good old fashioned elbow grease. tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1934207 2012-10-03T16:18:20-04:00 2012-12-03T05:12:02-05:00

Jake Townsend http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jake-townsend/
Put more simply, the embassy is the state -- and therein lies the complexity of our built world. Though many embassies and consulates are settled in buildings not originally intended for that purpose, many more still are purpose-built. It is these purpose-built diplomatic structures that deserve some attention in our current geopolitical climate.

It would be hard for many people to look at the twisted skeleton that once was the United States consulate in Benghazi and feel anything but sadness, and perhaps shock. The wreck that once housed American diplomats in what are, by most accounts, extremely challenging conditions, both personally and diplomatically, is a tragic testament to the difficulties of the current state of global affairs.

That consulate, as has been the case with many governmental outposts of many nations, was attacked and destroyed because, like all structures great and small, it was a symbol -- and a potent one at that. The building, like all buildings, had a practical function, but it was as much a functional space as it was the physical realization of an idea. In this case, the American idea.

National identity, for any nation, is deeply tied to symbols, and symbols by nature are rooted firmly in the built world. The White House, the African Union Headquarters in Addis Ababa, the Arc de Triomphe, Angkor Wat, the Great Wall -- these are just a tiny fraction of the many structures whose power transcends mere stone and mortar, becoming a physical encapsulation of those foundational ideas, national symbols, myths, historical memories, culture, artistic production, and religion that make a nation and its citizens who and what they are -- and what they hope to be.

At its most successful, in theory, the embassy or consulate should be the physical manifestation of a country's national ideal. The building should both symbolize and function as the state wishes to function. If the state sees itself as being transparent, democratic, powerful -- so too should the embassy.

The ideal American embassy or consulate should be a structural approximation of the American democratic ideal. The building should be at once public and private, project inclusion and retain some exclusivity, appear to be both powerful and soaring -- and should aesthetically represent the times in which the structure is built, but should be set on a lasting and solid foundation that is visible and apparent.

An embassy should feel as if it were a place where one feels welcome, no matter the origin of citizenship, and where one can go in order to gain some understanding of national identity -- without being didactic, imperialistic or imposing.

American embassies should feature places where multiple publics -- both citizen and visitor -- can go without much intervention, and can easily and casually interface with representatives of our nation. These public spaces should be under the purview of our Public Diplomacy leadership, and should be staffed by our Public Diplomacy officers. These spaces and those who staff these spaces should communicate the American 'brand' in new and innovative ways.

In reality, most embassies are simply not like this, as safety and security preclude this level of inclusion. Embassies are often surrounded by thick, imposing walls made of metal or stone and sometimes topped with barbed wire. There is no view into the inner workings of the building, and no easy way to enter. In order to gain entry, one must pass through multiple security checkpoints that grant access in stages to the building. Some of these buildings look like fortresses at best, prisons at worst.

In our increasingly polarized geopolitical climate where fears of attack and reprisal against embassies and consulates are quite real for many countries, including the United States, architectural aesthetics must take a back seat to security -- but there may be another way.

Security is a necessity. This is non-negotiable. The embassy simply must protect the diplomats and support staff. The question is, can we build a world where security and inclusion exist simultaneously in the same structure? Stated another way, can we create embassies and consulates that represent the totality of the American identity? One hopes that this question will be broached, not only among our diplomats, but in our design and architecture schools, or through competitions.

Perhaps one should look at the way that contemporary museums, airports and office buildings approach this issue. Though these buildings do not possess the potency that an embassy does; an airport, a museum or an office building is still a public place that requires high security and also must maintain some balance of the public and the private.

Perhaps the embassy of the future will feature two different kinds of structural ideas contained within the same building. These buildings might have highly secure portions where diplomats and support staff are secure and protected, and also feature sections that are still secure, but feel more open and inclusive. It is these open and inclusive sections that should represent the very best of who and what we are as a nation, and as a people.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.1071743 2011-11-03T12:02:16-04:00 2012-01-03T05:12:02-05:00

Jake Townsend http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jake-townsend/
Ours is a world of symbols, and none more powerful than those tied to the state. As revolutions bloom, and movements take shape, as dictators fall and leaders rise from the crowds, we are living in an historic moment, and it is our national symbols, some built of stone and glass, some part of the natural world -- even those of flesh and bone -- toward which we often turn to define who and what we are, in these, our tumultuous times.

A nation, at its foundation, is a metaphoric construct. Though defined by actual borders and governed by tangible laws and a government, a country is a conceptual place brought into existence, and later held together, by an ideological relationship between its citizens and the way in which they choose to govern the physical place that they have collectively imbued with life and meaning.

The national metaphor that serves as the founding structure of a country is reinforced, in part, by those national symbols that together form the visual representation of who and what a nation aspires to be. These symbols are so ingrained in the fabric of our daily lives as to be rendered ubiquitous, sometimes-clichéd, and often, utterly invisible -- that is, until revolution and protest bring them to the fore. A country is fundamentally a concept, and it is natural and built symbols like our Washington Monument, Japan's Mount Fuji, Saudi Arabia's Mecca, Greece's Parthenon, Mexico's Zocalo Square or Namibia's Sossusvlei desert that lend it a physical presence. These national symbols, however innocuous or even childlike they may seem (as they are often more a part of the landscape of childhood than of adulthood) are important -- even vital -- to the adherence to those aspirational, foundational ideals that we aspire to as citizens, and as nations.

Just in these past six months the United States has witnessed the monumental unveilings of new national symbols in the form of the September 11 Memorial in New York and the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial in Washington, D.C. -- both controversial in their own ways, and in the Middle East, the Arab Spring has inspired the destruction of now-obsolete national symbols like Gaddafi's infamous golden fist, and the rebirth of new ones in the forms of Cairo's Tahrir Square and Tripoli's re-named Martyrs Square.

Though the world often measures national power by wealth, influence and military might, it is those nations whose understanding of its own foundational metaphor -- its national identity -- that possesses a form of internal strength that cannot be touched by another nation, no matter its size or might. Our collective national identities, as reinforced by our symbols, provide boundaries that strengthen nations.

This power, of course, can be inverted by tyranny: fascist, autocratic and corrupt governments often master the dark art of oppression's visual reinforcement. One need only view the work of North Korea's cynical propaganda machine to see it in action.

However, revolution rises when those universal ideals, marked by symbols, bear stark contrast to the inequities of current life. When national identity is subverted, in other words, when those fundamental ideals that make a country who and what it is are negated in the name of power and reinforced symbolically in the built world, the outcome is revolution. Moreover, when a country no longer lives up to those foundational characteristics upon which it was founded, its symbols become empty place holders, awaiting a time when government and citizens live up to a nation's own highest aspirations.

When representative of the very best aspects and aspirations of human nature, national symbols serve a vital role in our lives, and the lives of our countries. These physically realized representations of who we are, and what we hope to be, help to reinforce the important national qualities that (in the best cases) serve to make our nations better places for us all.

Our cultural and historical heritage, our foundational beliefs, our founding struggles, and our national goals; these together represent that unconscious decision in the name of identity made by a people everyday, as a whole, and with constancy, and it is these intangible elements that imbue a nation with meaning and metaphorical sovereignty. Our national symbols, be they official or otherwise, are physical representations of our national self. When national symbols, no matter the nation, truly represent a country's foundational ideals, they not only represent the citizens of that nation, but those universal qualities that we all share together, as human beings. ]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.939181 2011-08-30T11:34:05-04:00 2011-10-30T05:12:02-04:00

Jake Townsend http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jake-townsend/
As Libya continues on its path toward a newly reborn nation, and the profound complication of state building begins, Libyans will face another, less visible hurdle; reconciling those deep-seated societal scars resulting from more than 40 years of oppression and fear. As it has been in South Africa, in Chile, in Sierra Leone, in Guatemala, and in many nations around the world -- and as it may come to pass in Egypt and Syria -- as a population wakes up from the nightmare of state-sanctioned tyranny, it must collectively face those shackles of oppression, not just of the body, but of the mind. For if we do not find those parts of us molded by our tormentors, and shed light on them as a citizenry, we run the risk of becoming them. Anyone who has lived for any extended period of time under oppression knows that the strongest tools of coercion are not physical, but mental.

There are so many issues at stake in this fragile stage of transition. Though the world watches the courageous Libyan revolutionaries with hope, the pendulum of justice often swings wildly when being returned to stasis through revolutionary acts. Revolution is fueled by love and rage in equal measure; love for country, and anger at an unjust, inhumane system. After the state is secure, and representational government, where tribal affiliations, religious traditions, territories of origin, gender, and race are represented and protected under the rule of laws created by and for Libyans, anger must give way to passion. For it is passion -- for truth, for reconciliation and above all, passion for the new nation of Libya -- that will propel this beautiful country into a future where the shackles of oppression have been cast off, replaced by a new sense of national self.

Just 27 years-old when he first rose to power, the young Gaddafi was ruthless from those first days seated on his stolen throne. Though his garish personal style and his cartoonish eccentricities nearly masked what lay beneath, in reality, Gaddafi the dictator was a mercurial despot with particularly sadistic methods of invoking fear in the hearts of the people he claimed as his own. After revolution's fervor subsides, one doesn't simply erase 42 years under a profoundly unjust system, but a people united together can create a new understanding of their country and their identity while extricating their collective past.

Oppressive systems, political and otherwise, exist not only because of a physical apparatus, but also because of a collectively reinforced psychological narrative. That is not to say that oppression is in any way a choice on the part of the oppressed; it is enforced, brutally. Yet it is this enforcement/ reinforcement equation that constructs a culture of fear that, once in place, is as powerful as any physical demonstration of subjugation. The illusion of all-knowing, all-seeing autocratic state maintains power through ubiquity, whether real or imagined, coupled with displays of actual brutality. The collective mind of a citizenry becomes fearful, and while kept in fear, is preoccupied with survival. Lives of fear are often lives without any vision of human potential.

Those who have experienced life under an oppressive regime know that state-sanctioned tyranny produces a kind of collective cultural madness that pervades almost every aspect of daily life. You may not personally witness daily acts of torture, and you may not feel physically threatened at every turn, but you feel it. The insanity of inhumanity is insidious, and works its way into the mind with stealth and persistence.

These shackles of oppression, however invisible they may be, are often stronger than any physical restraint, for they are kept in place by the oppressed themselves. As maddening as this fact may be, as deeply counterintuitive and frustrating, it is true that the greatest weapon that a totalitarian state has against its citizens eventually becomes the citizens themselves.

There is a point, however, when the demand for freedom, "the dream of democracy" as one Libyan so poetically put it, outweighs the fear of reprisal, and the lid that barely contained the human spirit is blown apart, unleashing a revolution. Lives are often sadly lost in the process, as is the case Syria at this very moment, but the floodgates have been opened.

It is said that we all carry the seeds of our own self-destruction; this is certainly true in the case of tyranny. The very measures that a dictator uses to oppress are the same measures that citizenry use to revolt against him. In those same seeds, however, are elements that can later cause the carrier to self-destruct, for it is bitterness and hatred -- those same feelings that helped bring about liberation -- that are turned on oneself.

There is also the matter of revenge. For anyone who has experienced the rage that comes, often unexpectedly, post-liberation, channeling it toward those who symbolize its source is as natural a reaction as can be. Libya post-Gaddafi will include in its citizenry individuals and groups who were once loyal to the former regime and its leader. Revenge in any form other than justice served in a court is a dangerous route to take, as acting upon these natural feelings is as damaging to the victim as it is to the perpetrator. That is not to say that tyrants and their cohorts should be given mercy, on the contrary: crimes against humanity must be prosecuted. Justice served is truly the best revenge. It is during this period of reconciliation, where stories of life under Gaddafi will be told, that will allow for a national conversation to take place.

Waking up from decades of autocratic oppression, in which the insanity of a leader's unchecked megalomania permeates every aspect of a country's collective life, takes time. As the revolutionary fervor slowly abates, and the state is rebuilt and reborn, it will be up to Libyans to reflect on the madness of the past four decades. In this reflection, a new Libyan identity will emerge, one that is entirely new and unfamiliar, not only to the rest of the world, but to the citizenry themselves. No one yet knows exactly what it will mean to be Libyan post-Gaddafi, but it is imperative that this national conversation takes place in order that the void left where fear once lay is filled with the passion of freedom.

Libya needs only to look to Egypt for evidence of the emergence of the inimitable human spirit after a revolution; even in this uncertain period before the official Egyptian elections, new voices of reason and dissent -- voices heretofore only whispered -- are now loudly being heard in the chorus of the revolution. When rage gives way to passion, and passion paves the way toward equanimity in all aspects of Libya's national life, so too will a new Libyan voice arise.

The 42-year reign of Gaddafi, a period of growth and despair in equal measure, is now a part of Libya's history, fading quickly away with each toppled statue, every triumphant public cry, with each small expression of the human spirit in defiance of a state once under the oppressive fists of a man and his family. And now, as if from a bad dream, Libyans will slowly wake up and begin to learn who and what they are in this new, and still unknown place. As has been successfully undertaken in many nations, Libya will begin reconciling its past so that those shackles of tyranny, once hidden away in the recesses of the mind of millions, will be brought to light and cast off in the name of freedom.

The human spirit yearns to be free. In its natural state, unrestrained in thought and expression, unshackled by oppression and tyranny, our brothers and sisters long for lives of dignity and strength, protected by a just and fair representational government. It is only the tyrant, whose bluster and ego masks fear and derision, who would claim that he -- and only he -- knows what is best for 'his' people.

How many revolutions will it take before the world's dictators, tyrants and despots realize that one man or one unjust system cannot contain the strength of the human spirit?
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.927390 2011-08-16T13:05:44-04:00 2011-10-16T05:12:01-04:00

Jake Townsend http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jake-townsend/ Why National Identity and Public Diplomacy Should Be Part of Development Initiatives in Nascent Democracies

Just a scant four weeks ago on July 9, 2011, the world bore witness to the birth of its newest nation, the Republic of South Sudan, and while inspiring images of jubilance and flag-raising were present on our screens for just a few moments, they were almost as quickly replaced by another, and yet another story that seemed just slightly closer to home. Such is the cycle of news; there is always something more pressing waiting at bay to usurp yesterday's top story.

It bears repeating: a new country came into being last month. After the tireless work of so many Sudanese people (now South Sudanese), foreign diplomats and development professionals -- not to mention the many millions of people who gave their lives directly and indirectly to a bloody civil war that lasted decades, to disease, famine and mass migration, all results of a seemingly intractable instability that was its defining characteristic -- the once-largest country in Africa was no longer. In its place are now two distinctly different -- and disparate -- places, whose very identities are in flux.

When the dust clears, as it seems to be, and the business of getting a country operating from nearly scratch is well underway, there is an issue at hand that deserves more attention than it receives: the importance of a clearly and accurately defined national identity (or 'character,' or 'brand' -- these are interchangeable terms), and a strategic public diplomacy plan as part of an overall strategy for development. Development assistance, for all its good intentions, is missing this crucial and oft-overlooked component needed by failed, or failing states as is the case in Somalia, and by nascent democracies as is the case in South Sudan.

The history of post-colonial Sudan has been one steeped in ethnic, religious and political unrest, killing and years of civil war that has scarred this vast place. The world, through an effective (I use that term neutrally) public relations campaign, most likely associates "Sudan" with "Darfur." Though this new nation may have come into being baring the scars of a tragic and tumultuous past, the Republic of South Sudan needn't carry Sudan's national 'baggage' with it into its new life as a nation. South Sudan's identity may tied to its new neighbor to the north, but it needn't be defined solely in relation to it.

Unlike much of the arid north, South Sudan is a rich and fertile place, where the Nile spreads into a verdant and teeming swamp, the Sudd, which serves as both geographical and metaphorical border between the two newly-formed states. This fecund land possesses the proverbial seeds for what could be a great African success story: oil, untapped mineral deposits and rich soils that could theoretically support cash crops like coffee or sugar cane could transform the country into a self-sustaining, successful African nation. South Sudan is, in some ways, in an enviable position for a country in this region: though challenges are great, and obstacles may be many and varied, South Sudan is a new place, with a new national identity as yet to be fully understood by those outside its fresh borders. Development agencies have the potential to provide assistance in this unique way.

Development agencies and professionals are often the first outside entities on the ground in places where governments are unstable or non-existent. Though development and humanitarian assistance in general most often focuses -- and rightfully so -- on those issues most pressing; namely food, shelter, human security and some semblance of stable governance, it is that fundamental understanding of itself that comes with a defined national identity that can strengthen the foundations of a nation that then helps to inform successful and lasting founding documents, social and political structure and societal cohesion.

A well-defined and accurate national identity is, in many ways, a defined national strategy and as the world's focus has shifted for a moment toward its own economic woes and unrest, South Sudan and nations around the globe in a similarly early or developing stage, will need to muster as much internal strength, of character and otherwise, that they possibly can.

National identity, when most effective, is a simple and honest way of expressing those fundamental values that make a country and its citizens who and what they are. Public Diplomacy is a means by which a country can communicate its national identity with the global community outside of traditional diplomatic channels. These important components to governance are rarely discussed as part of the business of capacity building, humanitarian assistance, or nation building -- and it is in this process that these tools for governance are most needed.

National identity and public diplomacy initiatives are certainly not answer to all of the complications associated with good governance. Emergency situations, as is currently the case in Somalia for example, require immediate and acute response. During first efforts to shore up a failed government, quell unrest, or manage the enormous task of assisting millions of starving citizens is not a time to discuss national identity or public diplomacy. However, when the business of assisting a country in the complicated task of building or rebuilding internal political, social and economic structures is underway again after a crisis, national identity and public diplomacy should be among the very first issues on the table.

When the time does come, a national identity, in its highest form, provides the nation with a vision of itself; public diplomacy helps it to communicate this vision. Asking the deceptively simple questions: "Who are you as a nation?" and "What does that mean?" might just be among the most complicated and imperative steps on the road to a nation built on strong and lasting ideals that accurately reflect its citizens and its plan for its future as a functioning and successful participant in the global community. National identity provides foundational strength for a country, for it defines that unique metaphoric construct for collective belief in the nation not only as a physical place, but as a collectively held idea.

In the case of South Sudan, as is the case for other nations, the many tribal cultures, religious belief systems, the spectrum of socio-economic levels, its history, geography, sport, entertainment, arts, national mythologies, foundational narratives and so on, are entirely unique. Though the process can be daunting, the definition of a country's national identity is an exciting one in that it is a chance to bring together representatives from all strata of society -- no single social, religious, political or economic group can be left out of the process if it is to be effective -- and it is in these oft-energetic discussions that those foundational national traits are brought to light for discussion, fostering a sense of ownership of the concepts. National ownership of the defined national identity is imperative for its implementation and ultimate success.

As South Sudan celebrates just over four weeks of sovereignty, with most of the world focused on a litany of issues on their respective doorsteps, perhaps this is a crucial and fortuitous moment for a burgeoning country. The business of self-governance should be a private affair, and the great and basic internal needs of a nation; namely education, security, a functioning economy, food supplies and healthcare, are what matters now. With a defined national identity available as a tool for good and fair governance, coupled with a public diplomacy strategy that will lay the groundwork for successful global communication, countries like South Sudan can find internal strength for lasting success.
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.918229 2011-08-04T12:18:00-04:00 2011-10-04T05:12:02-04:00

Jake Townsend http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jake-townsend/
It is unfortunate that a nation's mettle is so often put to the test in the worst of moments. In these past two weeks Norway has been the focus of understandably intense scrutiny, and as is typical, the tragic events have been coopted as a means to talk about issues ranging from immigration reform and religious tolerance to gun control and the rise of the European far right.

Reactions like this -- specifically, the tendency to project one's own interests onto emotionally engaging issues taking place somewhere else -- is human nature, entirely legitimate, and bound to happen when something awful happens in the world. This tragedy, however, has also focused attention on something that Norway has done very well -- albeit quietly -- in the past two decades: its government and citizens have continued to embody a clearly understood and defined concept of Norwegian national identity.  

The immediate reaction of Norway's government, royal family and civil leaders was an indication of Norway's fundamental understanding of itself as a nation, and, whether conscious or not, it was an example of the power and efficacy of a clearly understood national "brand."

Coupled with the sad and gruesome images of mayhem's aftermath was Norway's Prime Minister Jens Stoltenberg walking amongst Norwegian citizenry and reassuring them that the country would, in his words, "stand firm in defending our values" and an "open, tolerant and inclusive society." He added, "The Norwegian response to violence is more democracy, more openness and greater political participation." These statements, taken out of context, could function well as a definition of the Norwegian national identity itself: Norway is an open, tolerant and inclusive society.

The power of a well -defined national "brand" is in its authenticity. If a country says it stands for peace, and yet wages war, the brand is only a prop. Not so with Norway. What was especially affecting with regard to Norway's recent public displays in the last two weeks is the strength, unity and quiet dignity of the Norwegian citizenry, and the resolve of its leadership. The nation of Norway, from the highest levels of leadership to its citizens, has yet to negate those values that it claims as foundational to its character.

We've all seen those slogans used by tourist boards across the globe to entice travelers. While some of these tourism branding campaigns have been rather successful (Jamaica's, for example), most are so homogenous as to be completely interchangeable. National identity (or "brand," or "character" -- these terms are synonymous) is assuredly not to be confused with advertising, marketing or public relations campaigns for countries. National identity, when most effective, is a simple and honest way of expressing those fundamental values that make a country and its citizens who and what they are.

Norway has been visibly involved in peace negotiations around the world, and has shown a constant distaste for radical and right-wing polarization, not to mention the fact that the world's best-known prize for peace finds its home at the Norway-based Nobel Institute. Put more simply, Norway has branded peace.

Chaos is an unfortunate side effect of violence or disaster. As much as society can prepare for the logistical requirements during the aftermath of shocking events, it is nearly impossible to prepare citizenry for the psychological ramifications that come with events that tear at the fabric of a nation. Though a well-defined national identity is most certainly secondary to the immediate needs of a nation in crisis, Norway's recent example has shown how powerful a country united under a single, unifying identity can be.

Geir Lundestad, director of the Nobel Institute, summed this up in a recent interview when he said, "These quite unimaginable attacks have challenged our national character, but they will not be able to alter our national characteristics. Even in these terrible days we have seen some of our sense of openness, democracy, equality come to the fore." He continued, "Even our king and queen show they are one of us. They weep with the rest of the country."

A strongly defined and reinforced national identity is not a fix-all cure to all that ills a nation; nothing is. What a well-defined national identity does do is strengthen the fabric of a society, as it helps to reinforce the notion that the true power of country is fundamentally linked to the strength of its citizens' belief in the metaphoric constructs that give order to their collective national identity. Our national identities remind us of who we are, and who we aspire to be.

Character, national or otherwise, is forged in crisis, and is most certainly flawed. Such is its nature. These events will most certainly cause Norway to question itself as a nation, and perhaps create a dialogue related to its identity. In a recent Reuters interview Mehtab Afsar, the Islamic Council of Norway's general-secretary, said, "I think minorities will think of themselves as more Norwegian ... religion, ethnicity, color will go into the background. The Norwegian identity will be strengthened. We are standing shoulder to shoulder with our Christian brothers and sisters in Norway."

Norway has shown that a country can embrace its character -- at all levels -- to its great advantage. If anything, Norway's immediate reaction to this terror was authentic, distinctly Norwegian, and due in no small part to a country and a people who know fundamentally who they are. The world could learn a thing or two from their example.]]>