Freedom isn’t something you inherit – it’s something you practice.

Freedom is not a souvenir from history — it’s a skill we must keep alive.

The Children of 1989.

1989 was the year the world exhaled. The Berlin Wall fell. Young people danced on top of it. Europe became an idea again — open, united, alive. For one generation, that moment felt like a promise: Never again walls. Never again fear.

But the children born after 1989 grew up in another world. They didn’t see walls fall — they saw the internet rise. They learned that freedom was the default, not the result of struggle. And that’s precisely what makes 1989 dangerous as a symbol: it taught us to take victory for granted. We stopped teaching that freedom can disappear. We started believing that history had ended. While the world accelerated, our memory shortened. Politics turned into consumption. Values turned into branding.

Now, new walls are rising again — in Russia, Hungary, the US, Israel. Not always made of concrete, but of fear, language, and lies. Every time someone says “It can’t happen here”, it echoes the same blindness that built the walls in the first place. Because history doesn’t move in circles — it moves in waves. And when no one holds freedom in place, it quietly drifts away. The new generation faces a different kind of fight: Not against tanks, but against emptiness. Not for the right to speak, but for the ability to listen. It demands another kind of courage — quieter, but just as vital. The courage to believe in something when everything feels ironic. To stand for something when everything feels relative. Perhaps it’s not the children of 1989 who should admire their parents —
but the parents who should learn from their children. Because they already see what’s slipping through our hands: truth, trust, and the meaning of freedom itself.

Freedom isn’t something you inherit – it’s something you practice.