Prague: Looking for Vaclav Havel

“I really do inhabit a universe in which words are capable of shaking the entire structure of government, where words can prove mightier than ten military divisions."
Vaclav Havel, former president of Czechoslovakia and then president of the independent Czech Republic until 2003.


I was in Prague and so I decided to look for one of my heroes, Vaclac Havel, the brilliant, talented poet and former president of the Czech Republic. He stepped down in 2003 and has since returned to theatre, teaching, international relations, and writing. He is one of the people in this world, along with the likes of Jefferson, Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton, with whom I’d love to have dinner. I’d ask Havel about his life’s work, his passions, his role as a leader of the “velvet revolution’ that peacefully freed the country of Communist occupation. I’d ask him how a poet became a president, how a poet, playwright, and artist became a political activist and an icon of independence. I’d listen to him read his poetry and newest plays over coffee and dessert, savoring every moment with this great man.

Prague, the Czech capital, is an incredibly beautiful city, I think one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. How wonderful it must have been, how enriching and inspiring, to grow up here. My search for Havel began with a night cruise down the historic Vltava river. It was our group’s introduction to the city, led by experienced guide Bella, who lives in Prague and speaks fluent Russian. She knows the city like the back of her hand. She pointed out the sights along the river as we passed under lovely bridges, including the Charles, the oldest in Europe. As night fell and over a hearty dinner with some great Czech beer, she gave us some history, talked a little about Havel and the revolution he helped lead. Havel wasn’t on the boat, but his presence was felt.

After the cruise, Bella led us on a walking tour of the city. As tired as we were, after a 27-hour bus trip from Lviv that included a 7-hour wait at the Ukraine-Poland border, it was a wonderful walk, like a luscious dessert topping off a grand five-course dinner. Our group of 30 diverse people, many from Kyiv where the tour started, turned out to be such enthusiastic tourists it was contagious! We walked through squares, between buildings, under elaborate archways, around grand churches, cultural centers and towers, and stopped for closer looks at many, including the Maisel Synagogue, a fanciful pure white building that shines like a beacon in the night. Kind of unusual architecture for a Synagogue I thought, but, then, we are in Prague, and everything imaginable is possible.

There’s something about seeing a city for the first time at night that is wondrous: all the sites are lit up like a gigantic Christmas tree of many colored lights, decorated with the most elegant arts and crafts, Bohemian crystal in every shape and color, elaborately carved, painted and enchanting decorations. It reminded me of the antique Christmas bulbs that belonged to my grandmother and to her mother and my mother, which we get out every year to adorn our trees, but multiplied a thousand-fold over a magic fairytale land of one’s dreams. It’s dazzling.

But it was getting late, and I think Havel was either relaxing in his beautiful home in Wenseslas square, or listening to jazz at one of his favorite jazz cafes. When Havel invited Bill Clinton to Prague, they attended one such café, and Bill took a turn on a sax! What a team! Our group, however, as enthusiastic as it remained, was ready to call it a day. I would look for Havel tomorrow.

During the day, Prague is even more stunning, because you can see all the details of the magnificent architecture that defines the city. I think Havel must know them intimately; they inspired his poetry and his patriotism.

The city is packed with palaces and churches, ornate gates and towers, theaters and cultural centers, sacred and secular monuments and statuary in a range of gorgeous architectural styles from the Medieval to the Renaissance, Baroque and Gothic and up through 18th and 19th-century classics. Havel no doubt inhabited or visited them all at one time or another: the humanist and artist who used words not weapons to bring a revolution. I was in his footsteps.

I realized it didn't matter where we were, Havel's spirit was there. Surely he worshipped at times at the glorious St. Vitus Cathedral, part of the Prague Palace and Monestary complex, on a hilltop overlooking the whole city. His family once lived nearby, an intellectual and upper class family. The Cathedral was built over several centuries, not years but centuries, so it contains all of the different styles and elements that are part of prague’s architectural heritage. It features lovely slender Gothic towers, distinctive on the Prague skyline, along with incredible Neo-Gothic and Art Nouveau stained glass windows. The nave rises into the heavens, it’s that high. The spirit of Havel hovers. I could see how such beauty and artistry would inspire a revolution.

Just as important as the magnificent and monumental palaces and cathedrals are the lovely and lively town squares: Wensaslas Square (Vaclavske namesti), Old Town Square and Lesser Town Square, centers of commercial and cultural activities, where people gather and where Czech partisans in 1968, and later in the late 1980s, held organizing meetings and public protests. Havel’s motto then, during those revolutionary days, was “Truth and love must replace lies and hate.” I could imagine him stirring up a crowd, surrounded by the stunning beauty of a Prague square, with these words.

The walk down from the hilltop to the squares, on winding cobble-stoned streets lined with the former homes of merchants and craftsmen, is a feast in itself. You get both beautiful panoramic vistas of the city, and close-up views of the beautiful details of every building. You get a sense of the prosperous and proud city of the past, and the free city of the present. Havel’s family, I learned, was very much a part of this culture in this place. Havel absorbed it all, from an early age, a proud Czech with an artistic vision and a world view.

The details of Prague architecture fuse into an elaborate mosaic of red and brown roofs with white and pink chimneys, interwoven with green, yellow, rose, lavender, ochre and colorfully painted facades, decorated with pastel paintings, bas relief, decorated doors and windows above which are lovely house signs. Bella explained that these signs are not only artful decorative items, but also tell of the original owners' occupations. Thus there are signs featuring musical instruments (we saw one with three violines, very lovely), knights on horses, swans and birds, fabric and metal objects, fruits and vegetables, each designating a profession or trade, or perhaps a special interest.

Among these beautiful houses is the Storch House in Old Town Square, built in the late 19th century on the site of a Gothic building. The walls are covered with frescoes and colorful decorations, called I learned afterwards, “sgraffito” decorations, the origin of what we today call “grafitti” on our urban buildings. A knight on a white horse painted boldly on the Storch House turned out to be St. Wenceslas, the patron saint of the Czech state.

The Old Town Square (Staromestaske namest) also features a fantastical (if there is such an adventive) Astronomical Clock. Every hour, moving figures, the apostles, appear in the upper windows, marching around the tower, along with the toll of bells and the sound of a live trumpet filling the square with majestic sound. The crowd applauds, and the trumpeter, in regal red dress, bows. We are enchanted!

We wonder off toward a grand church with a distinctive large green cupola that draws us to it like a magnet. What is this magnificent Baroque structure that dominates the Square? It's St. Nicholas Church, and it’s interior is as elegant as its exterior, full of amazing paintings and statues, lovely stained glass windows, and a beautiful ceiling fresco above an elaborate Nave. Popes spoke here, to throngs of worshipers, Havel among them. I'm not sure what Havel's religious beliefs are, but under his spiritual side lies a free spirit who loves Frank Zappa and Smashing Pumpkins and other alternative forms of music and art. At the same time, I can picture him worshipping at one of these grand churches, or enjoying a Mozart concert in the Smetana auditorium of the beautiful Art Nouveau Cultural hall or at Philharmonic Hall, a massive Renaissance building.

There is one building in Prague which is among Olga's favorites and which she said she must see again. Would we go with her? Yes, of course. We walked along the river, along a grand boulevard, to a funny-looking building that looked as if it was swaying in the breeze. "This is it," Olga exclaimed, jumping 3 feet into the air! "It's the Dancing Building!"

So this gray "leaning-tower-of-Pisa" building wasn't swaying in the breeze, it was dancing! It was happy; it was free. I later read in a guide book that it stood on the site of a building that was bombed in 1945, and that it was designed and built between 1992 and 1996 by an American architect and a Czech architect, working together, combining old and new world styles. The architects: Frank O. Gehry and Vlado Milunic. The same Frank Gehry who designed the Toledo Museum of Art addition and the modern glass building and other buildings of distinction in America.

The Dancing Building seemed such a joyful metaphor for change and hope. It embodied the eclectic spirt of Vaclav Havel, the old and the new, dancing together into a brilliant future.

I didn’t see Havel, but his spirit is everywhere: creativity and political reality fused into a magnificent mosaic composed of the past and present. Havel inhabits Prague's essence. That’s where I found Vaclev Havel, poet-president of the Czech republic.

A Sense of Place

The responses to the 2011“Starobelsk Memories” calendar have been positive and enthusiastic, evoking the pride and pleasure people derive from seeing their city highlighted and beautiful. The calendar promotes a sense of place, a sense of a shared community with its own distinctive architecture, character, environment, landmarks and memorials, and folklife traditions. When we see our town in bold relief, we feel pride.

It reminds me of my working days with the state humanities councils in DC and Florida. One of the NEH chairmen, William Ferris, a southern Folklorist and director of the Center for Southern Culture in Mississippi, was a premier advocate of a “Sense of Place.” The idea resonated in both DC and Florida, places that couldn’t be more different from each other yet so similar in their need for recovering and celebrating their distincitve identities.

In DC, the compact 63-square-miles nation’s capital on the Potomac River, the humanities council focused its grantmaking and programming on exploring and extolling the heritage and distinctiveness of the residential city beyond the Capitol, the White House and the National Mall. This is the city that thousands of residents have called "home" for generations. The DC council funded and created hundreds of programs—award-winning documentary films, seminars, publications, public forums, exhibits, oral histories--on the city’s vibrant neighborhoods, its migrant and immigrant experiences, the stories of people who came to the city in search of a better life, its art, culture and folk traditions.

The same in Florida, one of the largest states in the US with over 16 million people and immense diversity from the North to the South. The Florida council awarded grants throughout the large state to explore local history and the built and natural environments, which are unique and splendid; offered heritage tourism weekends; invoked the state's indigenous Indian roots, its Spanish heritage, and its ethnic diversity; involved teachers in Florida history; and published a magazine devoted to Florida culture and traditions. In a state where so many people migrated from other places, “making Florida home” was the Florida council’s mantra.

The Starobelsk calendar fulfills a similar purpose. It is unusual here in this small village of 18,000 in far-eastern Ukraine near the Russian border to glory in local history, to be a “booster” for the town. Most residents, who have lived here for a long time, take their environment for granted, have other priorities besides the town’s identity or a shared heritage rooted in place.

The calendar highlights and extols the virtues of the village, in all seasons, in all its variety: The town center, the park, the Aydar river, holidays, folk art and architecture, its houses and churches, the university, and the Cultural Center, library, administration building, post office, and other downtown places where people shop, chat, and gather. All places people know and with which they are intimately familiar. Yes, “gathering places,” so special in a village where everyone walks from here to there and everywhere. I did more work by bumping into people on the street than anywhere else. Gathering places, public spaces, on the streets, are central to daily life here in Starobelsk. The calendar focuses on these special places, and in so doing evokes wonderful "aha" experiences and draws people together in a collective embrace of place.

"An embrace of place." It anchors us in a distinctive environment, a physical spot on planet earth, a geographic location that fosters attachment and belonging. It grounds us in a community of memory. It speaks both to our individual stories and to our shared stories, our collective history. “Starobelsk Memories” pays homage to a town that embraced a stranger from America. It is truly a special place.

A Day in Dontesk

Wikipedia photos of Donetsk and the Euro2012 logo. We passed this stately church on the way to the bank.


On Tuesday I took a six-hour bus ride to the big Donbass city of Donetsk, and then 3 hours later I took the 6-hour bus trip back to Starobelsk. All those hours riding a bus just to get to a Peace Corps-approved bank to get a new ATM card so I can access my PC account and the $250 I get in my monthly allowance! That’s because my old card was eaten by a local ATM machine and reported a “hot” item when my wallet was stolen at the end of December on the train from Lugansk to Kyiv. Luckily my wallet was found and returned with my passport (but no money), so I got to go to Egypt. What a miracle that was, and in so many more ways than anyone could have predicted.

There was no heat on the bus, but the driver was a real expert at driving on snow and ice. The roads were as bad as those photos I've seen of the roads in Chicago after the recent blizzard blew through the Midwest.

I've become an expert in layering up for winter weather, so I snuggled down and relaxed for the ride. A few times I thought our time had come as we skidded this way and that. But not yet. The bus driver was in God’s hands and God, or the goddess as Loren would say, correcting me, got us home.

Unfortunately I didn’t get to see much of Donetsk. It is a big city of over a million and it will be one of the sites of the 2012 European Championship football (soccer, of course) games. It looks like a prosperous city. It was once called Stalin and then Stalino, a big steel producing and coal mining city on the Kalmius River surrounded by the farmland of the Ukrainian steppes. It's had a tortured history of Nazi occupation, destruction, and rebuilding. Today it is the home of president Yanukovich and his good friend Rinat Akhmetov, Ukraine’s richest man.

The city looks to be in pretty good shape for Euro2012. There are even signs in Russian, Ukrainian and English at the ugly old bus station! Streets are being graded and paved. The huge Donbass Stadium, built by Akhmetov, is ready, according to my taxi driver, who spoke about as much English as I spoke Russian. It's a big football city, home to two winning teams.

So you'll be hearing a lot more about and from Donetsk in 2012, especially if you're a soccer fan. Maybe its teams will bring a victory to Ukraine. That would be a huge morale booster for the entire country. Go Donbass! Hope springs eternal.

Survival Mode: Egypt Impoverished

Surviving in impoverished Egypt:
Vendor at a fruit stand; taking tourists closer to the pyramids; collecting trash; a guard at the Luxor Temple.

The guard at the Luxor Temple caught me hiding behind a beautiful hieroglyphic-inscribed papyrus column, crying. I was thinking of my brother Loren, wishing he could be here, sharing his vast knowledge of the history of Egypt, wanting to hear his voice again. The guard asked if I was okay, in halting English; I smiled and said yes, and thanked him. I was embarrassed. 

He took me by the hand to another corner of the temple and said this is where he and other Egyptians pray for good health and loved ones. "Put your forehead on this spot," he said, pointing to a well-worn shiny round spot on a marble panel, and pray. It looked a bit like the round lumps on the foreheads of devout men who have prayed five times a day for years and years, only indented. I did what the guard suggested, and I felt better. He held out his hand, and I gave him 5 pounds. He had helped me, and now he asked that I help him. I realized, as much as I disliked the hustling, haggling, and begging, that poverty and survival dictated the behavior as much as anything. If someone found it annoying and reprehensible, well, okay, so be it; the vendor, trader or hustler would just go on to the next tourist, give it a try, and keep going. All day, every day.

One of the things you can't help but notice when walking the streets of Cairo and other towns and cities is how difficult daily life is for the majority of people. They collect trash, plastic and cans for a few pounds. They work as vendors and at day jobs, in hotels, in restaurants, in hospitals, for businesses if they are lucky. They try to get as much money as they can from tourists. It's survival.

Half of Egypt's 80 million people live in poverty. Unemployment is rampant and seemingly intractible. Certainly the Mubarsk government, with its $1.5 BILLION in annual aide from the U.S., never used a penny of it to help the people. Our Egyptian guides sniggered at the huge statues of Mubarak we passed along our way to the temples, and said that's where the money goes, and into Mubarak's pockets. There was an underlying animosity at US foreign policy, but I didn't sense any anti-American sentiment. Egyptians liked Americans, and enjoyed the bartering and the bantering. What they could not abide, and it was beginning to show then, was the persistent daily endless struggle for survival.

That's what American foreign policy has done to the people of Egypt. It has caused untold anquish and suffering, and the people have had it.

Now they have taken their destiny into their own hands, and the status quo governments in Egypt and abroad be damned. Time for a change. The Tunisia effect. "Tunisia is the solution," one news report quoted a protestor as saying.

Journalist Roger Cohen, in a thoughtful NYT opinion piece, interprets the protests as Arabs finding their voice at last, moving "from a culture of victimization to one of self-empowerment." What a difference this could make in the world. That's why Mubarak should just leave, now, so an interim coalition can take over. Why prolong the struggle and the agony? Make way for hope!

Where will all this lead? Who knows. I've heard lots of concerns, lots of fears. But honestly, for the people of Eqypt, it can't be any worse than 30 years of Mubarek's US-supported dictatorship.

Musuems and Tanks

Now and Then

The Egyptian Museum is a national treasure, a journey through 5000 years of history, a vast warehouse of artifacts from ancient times. It's Egypt evocative. The Egypt we dream about.

This is why in the midst of the chaos of protest on Cairo's city streets, citizens formed a human chain around the Museum to prevent looting and damage to the building and its fantastic collections from the tombs of the pharoahs.

Where we stood on the main side of the rose-colored Museum, coming out of our Hostel; where we contemplated the best way to get to the other side of the busy street; where we stood to take photos, now there are tanks. It is such an unreal juxtaposition.

Jud and I consider ourselves lucky to have been there in more tranquil times. But even then, I realized the tranquility was more mirage than reality, more a patina on deep discontent than a reflection of people's true state of mind.

Ideas were stirring. I felt it on my tour to the Pyramids and especially to the Valley of the Kings and Queens, and Hasheptut's tomb. Those soft sarcastic voices, the jokes, the feigned laughter, have now become shouts of outrage and protest. The widespread discontent underlying Mubarak's Egypt, a pseudo "stability" that underpins the US's support, at $1.5 billion a year, of a dictator, has erupted into the streets. The genie is out of the bottle. Let's hope someone like ElBaradei will carry the day.

If contemporary Egyptians honor their past, they will protect it, use it as a foundation to build a brighter future for new generations. They will coalesce around an inclusive democratic regime of many voices, find common ground to work toward common goals, whatever their differences. Then the U.S. can put its money where it's principles are, and reverse a foreign policy that has caused widespread hunger, poverty and devastation. Then the need for tanks in the streets of Cairo will also be a thing of the past.

Egypt Unplugged

Egyptians protest in Cairo; a protest in Boston/Cambridge area supports the pro-democracy protests in Egypt and questions American policy (fickr photos, gaelic nielson and others).

I’ve written about Egypt Evocative, Egypt Provcative, Egypt Seductive, and Egypt Unveiled, about the country along the Nile’s awesome antiquity and beauty, but I never thought I’d write about Egypt Unplugged.

Imagine having the power to shut down internet access to a whole country. The government asked all four internet providers to unplug Egypt, and all four complied. That action alone reveals the extent to which Hosni Mubarak’s totalitarian regime will go to stay in power, and the depth of the oppression the people have suffered for so long.

Is it any wonder that protests still rage in Egypt? Is it any wonder America has been forced, by crisis and under pressure, to reconsider its foreign policy? President Obama said that review will include the $1.5 billion we give to Egypt, too. What? We give $1.5 BILLION to Egypt? Why? To line the pockets of the dictator? Certainly the people never see a dime of that money, and we know it. Even a casual tourist can see that.

American foreign policy exposed. We have supported and kept in power an oppressive dictatorship for 30 years. We are complicit in the people’s oppression. It raises a lot of questions, and doubts, about the kinds of regimes we support in the Middle East and around the world. It has echoes of Haiti written all over it.

But look what it took. Only after the Mubarak government shut down the internet in the entire country, an “unprecedented” action the press has called it. Only after the use of excessive force against peaceful protestors, and more than 60 people dead. Only after the president for-life dug in his heels to stay in power. Good heavens. Of course the U.S. has no choice but to review it’s overall policy toward Egypt, and indeed, the entire Middle East and Northern Africa. And where is our Secretary of State in all of this? Where is Hilary?

It’s now evident to a broad public what perhaps the experts have known for a long time: that our foreign policies have been a boiling cauldron of misguided self-interest for too long.

There are broad principles at stake as well, principles we preach to others incessantly: freedom, equal opportunity, equal justice under the law, the right to protest, consent of the governed, the search for common ground in a democracy. It’s hypocritical to preach these principles then undermine them. It’s the kind of inconsistencies in our foreign policy that infuriate the rest of the world and undermine our credibility. I would go so far as to say it’s the kind of foreign policy that encourages terrorism. At least let’s practice what we preach in this ever-shrinking world. Let’s put our money where our principles are. That’s the only way to make the world safe for democracy.
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Time to make a new beginning in Egypt, across the board. That’s the message we’re hearing from Egypt now. And let’s pray it happens sooner rather than later, that more lives are spared, more hope restored.

We pray as well that Nobel laureate Mohammed ElBaradei, the articulate long-time challenger to Mubarak who just returned to Cairo, is safe and can remain a voice of reason and change. Many fear for his life. What a sorry state of affairs the protests are unveiling and revealing.

How lucky I was to visit Egypt before the inevitable turmoil erupted. The people yearn for freedom and opportunity. They want the dictator out. They want real change. I hope the young leaders and visionaries like ElBarade can find common ground for bringing Egypt into the modern world with the same granduer it bequeathed to us from its glorious ancient past.

The Tunisia Effect

Maps of Egypt, Tunisia and Ukraine to right

What do these three countries--Tunisia, Egypt and Ukraine--so different from one another, with such different histories and cultures, have in common?

In all three countries, long-simmering discontent with political intransigence, corruption, persistent unemployment and poverty is erupting into public protest. Other nations with similar long-standing problems are also lining up, on the verge of unrest. Yemen's an example

The human need for self-determination cannot be held down forever. It will break out in time, a tiny spark enough to cause a giant conflagration on top of years of mounting discontent and rage. It's like a volcano that smoulders for years and then finally erupts.

The anti-government protests now rocking Cairo, Egypt, Suez and other cities, echo the protest phenomenon in Tunisia, where the people came together to overthow an oppressive totalitarian regime. The people of Egypt, like the Tunisians, are fed up with the one-man rule that has dominated their country with an iron fist for over 30 years. They are fed up with corruption, lack of basic freedoms, police brutality, and the daily struggle for survival.

Egypt has 80 million people, almost half of whom live below the poverty level. They are finding their voice. They are speaking out. And they are making no bones about it: they are inspired and emboldened by the example of Tunisia.

I wasn’t surprised, because when I was in Egypt at year-end I regularly heard quiet complaints, more in the form of jokes or sarcasm or a feigned resignation, about their “president for life” and his self-promoting monuments throughout the capital city and in other cities along the Nile. The criticsm was muted but persistent. It seemed only a matter of time that people’s discontent would find an outlet. The 10,000 protesters in Tahnir Square, waving Egyptian and Tunisian flags, called for the president's outster and for the formation of a new government.

An AP article by Maggie Michael (1/25/2011) and journalists from Egypt quoted a 24-year-old hotel worker who lives on a salary of $50 a month as saying: “This is the first time I am protesting, but we have been a cowardly nation. We have to finally say no.” Another protestor proclaimed, “We want to see change, just like in Tunisia. ”

"Just like in Tunisia." Something similar I think is happening in Ukraine. Thousands of protesters, for example, turned out in Kyiv's Independence Square to call for changes in the tax codes, which they say favor the rich and hurt small businesses and working people. I heard supporters in Starobelsk cheering them on. They also called for new elections and a new national government.

Protests are erupting in towns and villages, too, in outraged response to local governments adopting Comprehensive City Plans without public input, as called for by law. In Lugansk, protestors urged more transparent, accessible and responsive city governments. This in far-eastern Ukraine, not in the west where it might be expected. The Tunisia Effect.

Revolts against oppression have taken place around the world throughout time. They are often slow in coming. They often reflect decades of unhappiness, simmering rage, pent-up disgust with things as they are.

Today, the communications revolution may be speeding things up. Like in Tunisia, the calls for rallies in Egypt went out on Facebook and Twitter, with 90,000 expressing support. Same thing is happening in Ukraine, where reformers are taking to the internet and social networks to keep people informed and to call for support.

Vovo and Yulia, of the NGO East Lugansk Center for Civil Initiatives, whom I've written about in my blogs about change from the bottom up, are out there leading the actions for honesty and open government. I'm no seer, but I've long sensed the yearning for change in Ukraine, and I've long noted signs of it at the grassroots level.

This is where human agency--the people's will, the people's voice--comes powerfully into play. It is human nature, I think, to struggle against oppression. It is human nature to fight for freedom and self-determination. This doesn’t mean all governments must be alike, or like the US government or any other government. There are many models of political governance. It simply means people want a say in how they are governed. They want opportunity. They want transparency and honesty. They want the chance to shape their own destinies.

The means to the end may vary, but the human need for freedom and autonomy will win out in the long run. Simmering outrage eventually becomes outright protest. If only dictators understood this basic human need they might not dig in their heels and use violence to stay in power. They might bend like willow trees in the face of the inevitable gusts of change that blow across the paths of time.

The human need for freedom, economic opportunity, justice, and self-determination will triumph. It's just a matter of time. The Tunisia effect.