Silence…

Silence is respect. Silence is recollection.

Silence is also a communal commemoration of the genocide against the Tutsi.

But we can hear the noise and the clamour and the cries from 30 years ago.

And as I stand before you, I am reminded of a child's testimony – at the time he was my children's age. His name is Révérien. He described how his mother came back from the market in April 1994 and told him she was afraid, told him he had to pray because the end was coming. The day before, neighbours had come and threatened them, and had stolen their possessions and their livestock. A few hours earlier, screams had echoed from the other side of the hill, the sound of the whistle announcing the first massacres.

The cries. The screams. They were the killers' cries of hatred, a hatred that had been brewing and festering for some time, spreading like a poison.

They were also the victims' cries of terror. Victims who were brutally attacked. Victims who were mutilated and raped. The victims were mothers, fathers, children. The cries could be heard from the house next door, from schools, from churches, from a roadside checkpoint.

And they were also the final cries of the people who were murdered. A cry for rescue. A cry for help. A cry for dignity. A cry for life. And then the noise died down, as the machete struck and took a life. The killers moved on to the next, again and again and again. Over a million lives lost.

Silence. It is also the silence of those who didn't want to see. The silence of those who didn't want to hear the hatred that was being spread, the hatred that sharpened the blades. They didn't want to see the mass slaughter that had begun. The international community did not react. In a way complicit, they stood back, closed their eyes.

I stand before you humble. I am Belgian. I am European. Thirty years have passed, and I know that my continent, Europe, owes a debt to yours, the African continent. I know the foundations and the glories of history. I also know its shame. I know how it breaks down, and who is responsible. It was with this in mind that, in 2000, the Belgian government apologised.

The duty of memory is first and foremost an obligation. It is an obligation to remember, an obligation not to forget. It is an obligation to learn from our mistakes in order to try to let more light into the world.

In the last century, the European continent was also ravaged by not only two world wars which spilled blood across the land, but by the Shoah as well. The industrial and systematic extermination of the Jewish people. Afterwards, the European continent chose to focus on justice, forgiveness and reconciliation to try to forge a positive path towards the future. Just like Rwanda and its people, who chose justice, forgiveness and reconciliation. A focus on education, healthcare, infrastructure and technology. A path of development and resilience.

Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you 30 years on. It is 2024, and we are living in a turbulent, chaotic world in turmoil. A world facing challenges that are the challenges of our generation. A conflict with nature that puts the human community at risk. Technological revolutions that shake our certainties and our points of reference: artificial intelligence, quantum computers. And then there is this move towards unilaterally calling into question a world based on rules.

That is the paradox of our times. Human intelligence is making technological leaps forward that would have been unimaginable just a short while ago, and at the same time the world is marked by injustice. It is a world marked by inequality, discrimination and conflict, taking place right now, on every continent.

In this troubled world, the European Union believes that the values of human dignity, of belonging to the human race and of fighting discrimination which underpin the United Nations Charter must be our compass so that there are no double standards. That is why we condemn in the strongest terms Hamas' terrorist attack in Israel, and we call for the unconditional release of the hostages. But we also, as the European Council, want humanitarian access to be made possible and a ceasefire to be called, in compliance with the decisions of the International Court of Justice.

Thirty years ago, this land of a thousand hills, this verdant land, was struck by absolute and boundless horror. So much personal suffering, so many tragedies. And afterwards, the choice was reconciliation. The choice was to rebuild. Step by step, with determination. Word by word. Confession by confession. And forgiveness, to weave anew the fabric of a society based on the dignity of every human being. Faith in humanity, reconciliation between neighbours, between communities, between countries, requires courage; it requires will. It is an obligation, but it is also a prerequisite if we want to be up to the task. Up to the task of carrying the light of hope and expectation. Carrying that light, the light of dignity, everywhere, always. That is the commitment we must make together. That is the path I hope we will take.