“The connections we forge — and the courage they embody — sustain us across borders, reminding us why the fight for freedom matters, everywhere,” wrote Tamar Rukhadze, a Georgian journalist, in her reflection on the 29th Forum 2000 Conference. We warmly recommend that you also read the other reflections that were sent to us by Belarusian journalist Aliaksandr Lukashuk, Albanian lecturer Elira Luli, and Serbian student Vuk Radišić Višnjić.
Tamar Rukhadze
Deputy Director, Batumelebi and Netgazeti, Georgia
Aliaksandr Lukashuk
Journalist, author and former director of Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty’s Belarus Service (1998-2023), Belarus
Elira Luli
Member of the ICDR, researcher and lecturer in international relations and political science, Luarasi University, Albania
Vuk Radišić Višnjić
Graduate student of peace, security, and development at the Faculty of Political Sciences, University of Belgrade, and a participant in the Erasmus+ You(th)&Dem project, Serbia
Courage Across Borders: Forum 2000 and the Voice of Georgia
Tamar Rukhadze
Deputy Director, Batumelebi and Netgazeti, Georgia
Last year, Tamara Sujú, a Venezuelan lawyer, accepted the Courage and Responsibility Award on behalf of her colleague Rocío San Miguel, who was imprisoned and unable to receive it herself. This year, I accepted the same award on behalf of my colleague, the jailed Georgian journalist Mzia Amaglobeli — and it was Tamara Sujú who presented it, since Rocío San Miguel remains behind bars.
The very next day, I found myself sitting in the opening session of Forum 2000, listening to Kim Aris, the son of Aung San Suu Kyi, a political prisoner in Myanmar. As Kim spoke, I thought: My God — Myanmar holds both a Nobel Prize and a Sakharov Prize laureate in prison. Who does that? Then I remembered Russia, a notorious example we often compare our authoritarian experiences to. What I did not anticipate was that, just two weeks later, Mzia Amaglobeli herself would be honored with the Sakharov Prize, meaning Georgia would join Myanmar, Russia, China, and Belarus in holding high-profile international prize laureates in jails.
This grim similarity made me reflect on our own struggle in Georgia, where, while we strive to continue our work and hold onto our beliefs, it doesn’t always feel vivid enough that people elsewhere are facing similar challenges. Before my first Forum 2000, I could not have imagined how many individuals would come forward to share experiences so close to our own. The very first few hours of the conference made me realize how intertwined our battles are, even across great distances. Over the following days, in nearly every room and throughout the Prague Congress Centre — the venue for the 29th Forum 2000 — politicians, analysts, journalists, election watchdogs, think-tankers, and researchers discussed stories that, while not identical, were deeply familiar to what we endure in Georgia. The boundaries between state-level challenges and individual suffering began to blur.
Forum 2000 made these connections tangible — both in the world and in my mind.
Ultimately, it's all about connections.
Not just the ones we make while networking — although those matter too — but the deeper connections that link the lives we lead, the challenges we face, the everyday struggles we share, and the solutions that often become visible only when we step outside our national or geographical boundaries and recognize how profoundly connected we are as individuals, communities, institutions, and states.
A couple of days after I returned home from the Forum, new restrictive measures were introduced in Georgia, effectively banning freedom of expression and free assembly — the very rights necessary to voice dissent. And just days after that, when dozens of my fellow citizens were sent to jail for protesting in the streets, colleagues from yet another Eastern European country were seeking the experience of Georgian journalists on how to survive under a growing authoritarian regime. A year ago, it was we who sought that kind of advice.
So, how will it be next year?
Will Kim Aris still be asking for help to save his mother?
Will Rocío San Miguel be in the front row at the award ceremony?
Will I — or someone else from Batumelebi and Netgazeti — announce the 2026 Courage and Responsibility awardee at the 30th Forum 2000?
Or will it be Mzia herself, free and safe, speaking about her courage and responsibility while presenting the award to someone who is not behind bars somewhere else in the world?
I cannot know what the future holds. I can only hope our efforts will bring change. But this I do know: the connections we forge — and the courage they embody — sustain us across borders, reminding us why the fight for freedom matters, everywhere.
From Forum 2000 with Love
Aliaksandr Lukashuk
Journalist, author and former director of Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty’s Belarus Service (1998-2023), Belarus
In Prague, Forum 2000 took place — the most representative annual discussion on the state of democracy and freedom in the world.
“Seikitim,” sings a woman. “Seikitim,” echoes a man. “Seikitim,” a young woman steps out to dance. Three performers in national costumes — father, mother, and daughter — open Forum 2000 with a number that, in Uyghur, means “Lover”/
Václav Havel, who conceived the Forum as a platform for discussions about democracy, would have liked such a beginning. If only because Havel understood the art of love and never missed an opportunity to fall in love.
Love, after all, is the ultimate power of the powerless — and today the Uyghurs are under pressure from the million-strong machinery of the Chinese security apparatus.
The China policy of assimilation of the Uyghurs is being carried out in the same way as the Polonization and Russification of Belarusians once were — systematically, comprehensively, and mercilessly. Folklore becomes the language of resistance in times when the power of law gives way to the law of power.
Whether such an opening of the Forum is an epigraph to future political discussions or an epitaph — it’s not immediately clear. Probably both at once…
***
“I can’t believe my eyes — 9 p.m., Sunday, and 60 people came to listen to our debates!”
So says Stanford professor Larry Diamond.
The first discussion on the Forum’s program begins right after the award ceremony and is called “The Role of Intellectuals in the Struggle for Democracy.”
Diamond is perhaps the best-known academic name at the Forum and the biggest authority among contemporary scholars of democracy. Students and politicians study his books; he edits the influential Journal of Democracy.
The first time I heard him speak was exactly a quarter of a century ago, and I still remember the impression — brilliant and at the same time complex reasoning, and a sense of depth unreachable for me.
Then, in 2000, I was a fellow at the Hoover Institution in California, where Diamond still works. He was just as conceptual when he spoke before us at NED — that was in 2023, when I was a fellow there.
At the Forum, his tone hasn’t changed, nor has his faith in the democratic process.
It seems so to me, but there’s no chance to ask such a question directly — the panelists don’t have time to respond to one another, such is the temperature of the discussion.
***
What made me most envious at the Forum was the moderator of the Russia discussion — Vesna Pusić, former Croatian minister of foreign affairs.
She carried out her role like a conductor who knows every musician perfectly and at the same time like a composer creating the score. For an hour, the entire hall sat completely still.
After three decades of participating in weekly discussions, round tables, presentations, interviews, seeing every kind of style and audience — I felt only one sensation: pure pleasure.
***
A third of the Forum’s discussions were devoted to Ukraine.
But what struck me most were not the assessments of Russia — Putin’s maniacal cynicism, military barbarity, or propaganda filth — because what are words compared to the daily and nightly killings.
Oleksandr Kornienko, first deputy speaker of the Verkhovna Rada of Ukraine, spoke about what most worries Ukrainians — time.
More precisely, the different speeds of time in Ukraine and the European Union, and how that affects Ukrainians’ hopes for victory, for EU membership, for the return home of millions of emigrants, for green energy, for facing the coming winter with temperatures below -20°C, and for safety in European capitals where children in kindergartens are not yet taught how to run to bomb shelters.
Not yet.
***
I received a personal invitation to the opening ceremony of the new Prague office of Reporters Without Borders.
I know most of those present, but it turns out that this office will focus on freedom of speech and journalists’ rights in the countries of Central and Eastern Europe — while Belarus remains the concern of the central office in Paris.
In the Press Freedom Index, Belarus ranks 166th out of 180 this year. But in terms of the quality of journalism, Belarusian independent media can confidently stand alongside the leaders of freedom — the Baltic states and the Czech Republic.
***
In the corridor, I greeted the speaker of the Czech Parliament, Markéta Pekarová Adamová.
A couple of years ago, at her invitation, I spoke before deputies about our imprisoned colleagues. Czech politicians wrote letters to Ihar Losik, Andrei Kuznechyk, and Aleh Hruzdzilovich in prison. A large portrait of Ihar flew over Prague.
The speaker asked how Ihar was doing now, what he’s working on, what his plans are. She glowed with joy, sent greetings, and I took a photo to send to Ihar.
I hope the released prisoners don’t forget to send thanks to those who didn’t let the world forget about them all these years.
Czech President Petr Pavel speaks about his country with surprising modesty for a president and a general: “We are a small country and not even a regional power.”
But the role of the Czech Republic in supporting Belarusian democracy — from Havel to Pavel — is far greater than its weight in the European Union. The same can be said about the Czech Republic’s help to Ukraine.
Meanwhile, the head of government of a neighboring country half its size is gaining international prominence by appealing to a different kind of power. Slovak Prime Minister Robert Fico recently declared:
“Russians kneel only to tie their shoelaces.”
Writer Dmitry Bykov had the perfect comment:
“Before whom do they kneel, and whose laces will they be tying? Because once you kneel, you can’t tie your own…”
***
The Forum’s closing discussion is titled “Facing the Odds: Ways Forward.”
Its main speaker was this year’s Nobel Peace Prize laureate, María Corina Machado.
She’s in hiding; Venezuela’s dictator is furiously hunting for the winner of the parliamentary elections. But in Prague, she appeared live on a big screen — the connection perfect, her face radiant, smiling, looking straight into the camera.
I listened to her words — full of optimism and strength — and saw in them the image of our own Nobel laureate, Ales Bialiatski. He will certainly represent Belarus at the Forum in the future. In fact, he already does.
Democracy in Crisis or the Crisis of Values?
Elira Luli
Member of the ICDR, researcher and lecturer in international relations and political science, Luarasi University, Albania
Forum 2000 in Prague brought together scholars, activists, and policymakers to discuss democratic resilience and strategies for sustaining it amid growing pressure. Democracy thrives when societies embody its core values, including freedom, social peace, the rule of law, respect for human rights, political participation, and civic responsibility. When these values are endangered, democracy's stability and resilience are at risk. The question then arises: who bears responsibility when these values fail to operate?
All societies rest on value systems. Even autocratic regimes function through moral codes — emphasizing collectivism, hierarchy, obedience, and respect for authority. These values may differ from liberal-democratic ideals, but nonetheless, they shape behavior, loyalty, and legitimacy. In democracies, the value system is supposed to elevate citizenship, accountability, trust, and fairness. When they are in crisis — no longer lived, aspired to, or openly violated — how can we expect democracy to remain stable or resilient?
Political actors often disappoint the most. A 2023 Pew Research Center1 survey found that majorities across democratic countries believe politicians do not care about their opinions, and that no political party truly represents them. This perception gap is dangerous. Citizens respond to political disappointment in various ways, including protest, silence, withdrawal, or restless mobilization. Yet even amid discontent, entrenched political forces often remain unchallenged, as recent cases in Georgia and Serbia show.
People’s dissatisfaction with leadership stems from a loss of responsibility, integrity, accountability, and the very idea of public service. Politics has drifted away from reconciling competing social interests toward protecting power itself. Scholars, especially those based in divided societies (whether divided along ethnic, cultural, religious, economic, or ideological lines), are challenged to understand why polarization occurs and whether societal polarization emerges developmentally from the top down or bottom up. Empirical evidence suggests that political elites foster adversarial identities through social-psychological, media, and political processes. Rising populism further intensifies affective polarization in divided societies, whether the divisions stem from manufactured narratives, imaginaries, or historical myths.
Notably, any bottom-up populism should not be viewed as a cohesive strategy, but rather as fragmented, sometimes symbolic expressions of frustration and discontent, driven by perceived government neglect, unmet socio-economic expectations, or shifts in global and regional politics. In many cases, we have noticed politicians deliberately and gradually distancing themselves from citizens. This distance is filled with everything performative in between, but rarely anything substantial in terms of care, services, and communication.
Such conditions raise a crucial question: what role do horizontal actors play? Civil society, academia, media, educators, and active citizens share responsibility for upholding the moral and intellectual foundations of democracy — yet they, too, must be measured by the values they embody and the authenticity of their engagement. In this post-truth era, and within the dynamics and confusion created
by the digital age, rebuilding authentic communication channels as "bridges" between bottom-up and top-down participation is essential for democratic renewal.
In its most valid form, politics is the art of consensus and solution-finding — grounded in vision and will, but especially in correct procedures and the building of institutions that serve citizens. Yet elitist theories of governance advocate for turning democracy into the rule of the knowers, or what some call epistocracy. But is rule by the "knowers" truly the right path? And are today's political leaders genuine knowers — or merely skilled abusers of political tactics and populist tools? This question is largely self-evident, yet it highlights the crucial need for the public to be informed, prepared, and well-equipped to engage thoughtfully with this issue. Societies have an epistemic right to education, dialogue, and credible information; democracy requires shared responsibility and citizens capable of questioning and shaping the common good.
Values must be implemented and embodied in everyday life, not merely declared in constitutions. Values do not defend themselves; they need custodianship. In a democracy, this responsibility is embedded in a democratic moral triangle of citizens, institutions, and education. As political scientists and peace theorists note, democracy nurtures social peace as a living structure grounded in shared values, upheld not by the powerful but by the conscientious: teachers, journalists, scholars, artists, and citizens who anchor society in times of turbulence.
This brings us to education — the deepest root of all value systems. If we are serious about defending democracy, we must reexamine — and more seriously — our education systems. Education shapes how young generations understand truth, justice, and responsibility and how they can shape futures.
A natural question arises: have we started to envision the education systems of tomorrow, and how do we nurture civic literacy from the earliest years? How can we ensure rigorous research and innovation through the much-needed support, especially in vulnerable regions where underrepresented knowledge is prevalent, thereby sustaining intellectual independence and autonomy? How can we integrate diaspora knowledge into local academia? How do we address youth insecurity in an era of economic and technological upheaval? And how can transformative technologies — AI, digital tools, new media — enhance rather than erode the literacy, curiosity, and critical thinking of the next generation? Perhaps we should also ask students: what education do they envision, and how would they improve the process that prepares them to be free and responsible citizens??
These are the questions that must be addressed — urgently — if we want to move beyond rhetorical debates about defending democracy and peace. Otherwise, such discussions risk becoming performative rituals. Peace, after all, is not merely the absence of war or conflict, but an integrated, multidimensional process — one that begins in the mind, continues through education, and flourishes in societies that remember why democracy matters in the first place.
Connections You Bring with You Across the Continent, if Not the World
Vuk Radišić Višnjić
Graduate student of peace, security, and development at the Faculty of Political Sciences, University of Belgrade, and a participant in the Erasmus+ You(th)&Dem project, Serbia
Rushing to see a Czech minister talk about the reinvasion of Ukraine, discussing a recent political trend during a 15-minute coffee break with an NGO worker, a student, and a politician, followed by a panel on smart cities and state surveillance. Before you can fully absorb the weight of these discussions, another coffee break arrives — this time with a different international NGO worker, a student, and a professor. That’s followed by rushing to an entirely different panel — this time on China and the strategies the West might take to deal with or work with it — then to a networking event with drinks, desserts, and business cards. Finally, late-evening discussions on the status of civil society in the 21st century, where a diverse set of voices talk about both challenges and opportunities facing activists, governments, and civil society.
That describes only half a day at a Forum 2000 conference, and it only gets busier. The pace is nothing short of exhilarating at times. As part of a different program, we only really got to see some parts of the conference. Regardless, the chance to engage with a Czech minister, a Serbian politician, and the founder of the National Endowment for Democracy — all within the span of two hours — was an awesome experience. Meeting public figures, however, wasn’t even necessarily the best part. In a way, at Forum 2000, you can meet almost anybody.
The topics discussed are not only relevant but urgently contemporary. Whilst some conferences are still firmly anchored, blandly discussing the same topics discussed some 20 or 30 years ago, Forum 2000 conferences are already talking about the abuse of power when it comes to technologies that were developed only years or months ago and are still under development. Support for Ukraine remains strong, nobody is scared to discuss the war crimes in Gaza, and neocolonialism is not a strange, no-no word. The people leading the discussion, young and old, are experts in their field; topics aren’t banned or avoided, they’re incorporated, argued, dissected.
News travels fast today but it traveled faster at the Forum, where we were discussing the events as they were being reported. Connections — as well as disagreements, agreements, and enlightenment — were made within minutes of world news breaking. Panels which ended just minutes before were uniting people, sparking talks of new projects, programs, and systems.
What also really stood out to me, however, was the diversity of the audience and speakers. The audience and speakers span generations — from high school students to seasoned professionals with half a century of experience. The conference draws people from every corner of the globe; different nationalities, genders, professions, ages, and opinions. It’s a space where a conversation with a Canadian NGO worker during one coffee break can turn into a debate with a Kenyan political scientist the next. In this vibrant, dynamic environment, every interaction is an opportunity to learn.
Most conferences glance over a couple of issues, host a couple of good names and faces, and write a couple of paragraphs’ worth of decent copy. They end with a few dozen promises to grab coffee later, or to write to that one person about that one idea. They end with a splat. This year’s Forum 2000 Conference definitely stood out in that regard. It's not just the knowledge, but also the connections you bring with you across the continent, if not the world.
The views expressed in these works are the responsibility of its authors and do not necessarily reflect those of the Forum 2000 Foundation or its staff.
