“A Story of Europe”

Parliament of North Macedonia

3 November 2025, Skopje, North Macedonia

Address by Theodoros Rousopoulos

President of the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe

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Mr Speaker, Honourable Members of Parliament, Excellencies, Dear friends,

On the occasion of the 30^th anniversary of the accession of your country to the Council of Europe, allow me to tell you a story — not of a single country, but of a continent that decided to begin again. It is, in truth, the story of Europe itself.

The year is 1943. Europe is at war. Its skies are red, its cities in ruins. But one night, across the static of the BBC radio, a voice speaks with improbable calm. It is Winston Churchill, and he dares to look beyond destruction: “We must aim,” he says, “at the eventual union of Europe.” In the midst of war, he imagines peace — not a peace of silence or exhaustion, but a peace built upon law and conscience.

It was a dream not born of power, but of humility: that the nations of Europe might one day bind themselves to something higher than themselves.

Six years later, in 1949, that dream took form in the city of Strasbourg. Twelve nations gathered to found the Council of Europe — the first European institution of the new, post-war order. They began not with weapons or trade, but with a moral premise: that peace is political only when it is first ethical.

In 1950, they signed the European Convention on Human Rights, giving birth to the first international charter of liberty in history. For the first time, governments accepted that their own citizens could appeal to an independent court, and that moral law would stand above political interest. Europe had discovered its new architecture — an architecture of conscience.

The -50s were years of division and hope. As the Iron Curtain split the continent, the Council of Europe became the western half’s conscience and the eastern half’s hope. Behind that curtain, poets, teachers, and students kept whispering the word “Europe,” because they sensed that Europe was not only a place — it was a promise. And for those who could not yet cross the border, Democracy and Justice became an objective, which could be delayed, but not denied.

Then came the -60s and -70s — years when Europe tested its own ideals. When authoritarian regimes reappeared in Greece, Portugal, and Spain, the Council of Europe reacted not with silence, but with principle. When the colonels seized power in Athens, the Council suspended Greece’s membership — a painful act, but one that saved its soul. And when Democracy returned, Greece was welcomed back not as a stranger, but as a son returned home.

From those moments, one lesson emerged: Europe may forgive mistakes, but it cannot compromise its moral foundations.

The -80s brought the ‘Wind of Change’ and the language of freedom returned to the public square — from Helsinki, to Warsaw, to Prague. When the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, the Council of Europe did not need to reinvent itself. It had been waiting all along — ready to embrace those for whom Europe had remained only a dream.

The Council became the meeting place of the reunited continent. ‘The common European home’ as Mr Gorbachev worded it when he addressed the Assembly in 1989 and indeed the -90s were years of reunion. People long divided by ideology joined the family of Democracy.

Among them, in 1995, stood North Macedonia — young, resilient, and determined to belong.

The Council of Europe became the moral parliament of the new Europe, where forty-six countries now sit side by side. And, in time, its institutions grew stronger, its role clearer.

Allow me, at this point, to open a small window into the institution I have the honour to lead — the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe.

Our Assembly brings together more than 600 parliamentarians from our 46 member states. We meet four times a year in Strasbourg, to debate, to listen, and to decide.

Our committees — on political affairs, legal questions, human rights, equality, culture, social rights, migration and refugees, and others — work continuously throughout the year.

Our parliamentarians observe elections across Europe to ensure they remain free and fair. The Parliamentary Assembly elect the judges of the European Court of Human Rights, and we hold governments accountable for their commitments to Democracy and the rule of law.

We are not a parliament of power, but of principle — a forum where Europe examines its own conscience. And –I must point it out- those who are participating to our Assembly are volunteers. They are not getting paid and they don’t travel to Strasbourg or other places for tourism.

Often in their own constituencies their voters might accuse these parliamentarians of absence while at the same time they may deliver a very important mission of the CoE.

Going back to my chronology we have already reached the years after 2000. With the turn of the millennium came comfort — and, with comfort, illusion. We thought Democracy had become automatic, that progress was permanent.

But beneath the surface, mistrust grew. People began to suspect that institutions spoke a language too distant from life. And some politicians discovered that anger was easier to sell than truth. Populism returned, and with it, the claim that the European Court of Human Rights limited sovereignty, because of issues related with migration problems.

Yet facts tell a gentler story: In the past decade, the Court has processed over 400,000 applications, and only a tiny fraction — two percent — concerned migration. More than ninety percent of those were dismissed. This is not a court that weakens nations. It is a court that reminds them who they are. For sovereignty without conscience is only a mask for fear.

The 2010s and hence I call it the Age of Disinformation. The digital revolution promised transparency and delivered noise. Information multiplied; truth fragmented. Democracy became fast, reactive, emotional — a Democracy of the moment rather than of memory.

The Council of Europe responded with new instruments on freedom of expression, data protection, and media pluralism. Because it understood that free speech is not the freedom to shout, but the freedom to seek truth.

Now at -20s, we unfortunately had the Return of War in Europe. The invasion of Ukraine forced us to remember why the Council of Europe had been created in the first place. Our Assembly acted with clarity.

We voted to expel Russia — not out of vengeance, but out of fidelity to our founding principles. And we are the only institution which took such a decision. We established the Register of Damage for the victims of aggression, and supported the creation of the Special Tribunal for the Crime of Aggression.

Because justice is not an act of retaliation; it is the memory of civilisation. Ukraine’s struggle is the Council of Europe’s moral test. It reminds us that peace is not only the absence of war, but also requires the presence of justice. Yet that peace will never be complete without a democratic Russia and a democratic Belarus. That is why our Assembly has opened dialogue with the democratic forces of both nations in exile. They are Europe’s conscience in waiting — proof that even in exile, freedom continues to breathe.

But while cannons thunder, another revolution advances silently. Artificial Intelligence is changing not only how we think, but what we think. It predicts our desires, edits our beliefs, and blurs the boundary between real and false.

In response, the Council of Europe has created the Framework Convention on Artificial Intelligence — the first global treaty to ensure that technology serves humanity, not the other way around. Its ambition is simple: to keep the human being at the centre of the digital age. To ensure that ethics, will not be sacrificed for the sake of efficiency.

Today, the Council of Europe reaches far beyond its original borders. Morocco, Tunisia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Japan, Mexico, Costa Rica, Peru, Uruguay — all are partners in our conventions. They remind us that Europe is not a place; it is a principle. Unfortunately, this principle is being questioned today.

A recent survey revealed that nearly one-third of young Europeans would prefer strong leadership to Democracy. That number is not just a statistic — it is a warning.

Democracy is losing its emotional gravity. We must not only protect it with laws; we must revive it with meaning. People must once again feel that politics can be a form of poetry — that participation is not futility, but faith in the collective soul.

Dear colleagues, at this last part of my speech I would dare to put a title: And this is, The Dialogue of Hope.

The Council of Europe remains a house of dialogue. Within our Assembly sit the representatives of over fifty parliaments, including the Knesset and the Palestinian Legislative Council. Even amid grief and conflict, they have spoken before us — proof that conversation is nobler than silence. In 1978, two men — Anwar el-Sadat and Menachem Begin — dared to talk, and signed the Camp David Accords. They received the Nobel Peace Prize for their courage. A year later, in 1979, the same prize went to a woman born here, in Skopje — Mother Teresa.

Between Camp David and Skopje runs a single moral thread: that peace begins not with power, but with empathy; that dialogue without compassion is diplomacy without a soul. Mother Teresa once said: “It is not how much we do, but how much love we put into the doing. ”Though simple, it holds a strong political message — that love is the first condition of justice, and compassion the foundation of Democracy.

Your country, dear friends, has always stood where histories meet — where languages coexist, and faiths intertwine. You know that coexistence is not theory; it is survival. You know that bridges are better than boundaries.

In these thirty years of membership in the Council of Europe, North Macedonia has proven that moral maturity is not measured in size, but in the capacity to listen, to respect, and to belong.

The Parliamentary Assembly has actively supported and continued to support North Macedonia on its path towards deeper European Integration.

Dear Speaker, dear colleagues,

I have visited your country many times, in different capacities — As a journalist –especially as a war correspondent- in the -90s, when the fires of war still burned in the former Yugoslavia and later, as Minister of State of Greece. In those early years, I had the privilege to meet many times with your first President, the late Kiro Gligorov — a statesman remembered for his calm moderation and his unshakable belief in peaceful independence and coexistence.

Once, he said: “Our future is in Europe, but our responsibility is here — to prove that small nations can live in peace and Democracy.” And I believe you have done so. Your progress is remarkable.

As President of the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe and as a politician who comes from your neighbouring country, Greece, I am truly glad to be here today — to witness, in your Parliament, the living proof of his words.

As I stand here, I think once again of Churchill, who once said with irony that “The Balkans produce more history than they can consume.” He was half-right. Yes, the Balkans have known more history than most — but they have also produced more wisdom than they are given credit for. They have shown that the memory of pain can become the discipline of peace, that coexistence can be learned, and that Europe’s unity is not a gift from geography but a choice of will.

Mr Speaker, dear colleagues,

Seventy-five years after the signing of the European Convention on Human Rights, and thirty years after North Macedonia joined our common home, the story of Europe continues — not finished, but unfinished, as every moral story must be. Each generation must write its own chapter, not to change the meaning, but to keep the promise alive.

The promise that law will protect the weak, that truth will outlast propaganda, and that human dignity will remain the measure of civilization.

Thank you for the honour of addressing your Parliament — and for reminding us all that Europe is not a memory, but a mission.