Who Gets to Shape the Narrative of a Nation?
Yesterday, I attended the opening of the Obama Presidential Center in Chicago.
I listened to President Obama speak. I watched world leaders, business leaders, philanthropists, and cultural leaders navigate and interact.
But what stayed with me most was not a single speech or conversation.
It was a question.
Who gets to shape the narrative of a nation?
I have been thinking about this more and more lately.
And what fascinates me most is that I keep seeing the same idea show up in completely different rooms.
A museum board meeting.
A conversation with global tourism leaders.
A gathering of ambitious students.
A presidential center opening.
At first, these felt like separate conversations.
I no longer think they are.
President Obama spoke about the responsibility to inspire the future.
That stayed with me.
Not just because of what he said, but because of where he said it.
Chicago is a city with extraordinary talent, history, culture, and economic power. And yet, like many great cities, it also wrestles with narrative.
What story gets told about Chicago?
Who gets to tell it?
Those of us who live and work here know there is far more complexity, creativity, resilience, and possibility than headlines often capture.
That felt deeply connected to the larger question I kept returning to throughout the day.
Because cities and nations are not shaped only by infrastructure, policy, or economics.
They are also shaped by aspiration.
By belief.
By the people willing to imagine a better future and invite others into that vision.
That question has become even more compelling to me through my growing friendship with President Elbegdorj of Mongolia.
Our conversations have challenged me to think beyond leadership in the traditional sense.
Not simply about policy or governance.
But about story.
About perception.
About what the world believes to be true about a place and the people who call it home.
When we think about the story of a country, we often assume it is shaped by presidents, prime ministers, policy, or the media.
But I am no longer convinced that is the whole story.
Nations are shaped by something much harder to see.
They are shaped by storytellers.
By artists.
By entrepreneurs.
By educators.
By technologists.
By students.
By tourism.
By the people who decide what gets preserved, what gets shared, and what the rest of the world is invited to experience.
President Elbegdorj understands this deeply.
He helped lead Mongolia through one of the most remarkable democratic transformations of the modern era, helping move the country away from Soviet control and toward democracy.
And yet, despite that extraordinary history, many people in the United States still know very little about Mongolia beyond a few historical references or geographic assumptions.
I find that fascinating.
How can a nation with such a rich history, democratic resilience, and cultural identity remain largely absent from global consciousness?
That question brought me back to narrative.
Because history alone does not shape reputation.
Visibility does.
Story does.
Connection does.
Recently, I sat with tourism innovators working with cities and governments around the world.
Their work goes far beyond tours or ticket sales.
They are asking much bigger questions.
How do you invite the world into a place without losing authenticity?
How do you create economic opportunity while preserving cultural identity?
How do you help people experience a country in a way that changes what they believe about it?
The more I listened, the more I realized tourism is often misunderstood.
At its best, tourism is not just about leisure.
It is about perception.
It is about access.
It is about empathy.
The places people visit become the places they understand.
And the places they understand become the places they care about.
That matters for cities.
It matters for museums.
And it matters deeply for nations.
I see this same pattern emerging through a remarkable group of students I have the privilege of working with.
These young leaders understand something many adults forget.
Exposure changes people.
When you encounter history firsthand, when you walk through a cultural site, when you hear the story behind a place, something shifts.
Your worldview expands.
Their generation understands instinctively that technology can widen access to these experiences in ways previous generations never imagined.
They are asking questions many institutions still have not fully answered.
How can technology make cultural heritage more accessible?
How can storytelling preserve meaning while expanding reach?
How can young people help interpret history for other young people?
I find enormous hope in that.
Maybe that is one of the defining questions of our time.
Because narrative creates perception.
Perception shapes belief.
Belief influences behavior.
And behavior changes the future.
The most influential people of the next decade may not simply be politicians or media organizations.
They may be the people who build bridges between culture, technology, business, and human experience.
The people who help stories travel.
President Elbegdorj visits Chef Stephen Sandoval’s Chicago restaurant, Trino.
The people who help nations become more fully understood.
Maybe that is the real work.
Not controlling a narrative.
Not manufacturing one.
But thoughtfully expanding it.
Making room for deeper truth.
For greater context.
For more human connection.
So I return to the question that followed me home yesterday.
Who gets to shape the narrative of a nation?
Maybe the better question is this.
Who is willing to take responsibility for helping shape it well?
That feels like a question worth sitting with.
I know I will be.
