On September 12, 2026, I had the opportunity to participate in the Forum Suryoyo conference in Frankfurt, a platform for networking, dialogue, and debate. I was invited to participate in a panel on the theme “Connecting the Diaspora and Preserving Suryoyo Identity Across Borders, ” alongside Shabo Talay, a professor of Semitic languages in Germany, and Ciano Aydin, a professor of philosophy in the Netherlands. Together, we had the opportunity to share our experiences and perspectives on language, culture, and identity in the diaspora.

It was a very successful and constructive day, marked by discussions, the exchange of knowledge, and diverse perspectives. Those in attendance came from a variety of professional backgrounds and had diverse experiences: professors, doctors, activists, journalists, lawmakers, musicians, and representatives from various political and social contexts. Participants had gathered from various parts of Europe, the United States, and Betnahrin, giving the conference a broad international and multifaceted character.

Of particular significance was the presence of His Holiness Moran Mor Ignatius Aphrem II, Patriarch of the Syriac Orthodox Church, who, together with two bishops, blessed Forum Suryoyo. The Patriarch addressed the participants and wished Forum Suryoyo happiness and success in its continued work as a constructive forum for dialogue and fellowship. In his message, the Patriarch emphasized the importance of showing respect for one another’s opinions and perspectives, even when they differ from our own. He also highlighted the importance of fostering dialogue, seeking understanding, and striving for unity among our people.

His Holiness – Patriarch Afrem II Karim at the Suryoyo Forum

That message is important. In a diaspora where our people—Assyrians, Suryoye, and people who use other terms based on their own identity and tradition—live in many different countries and contexts, we will naturally not always share the same perspective on history, identity, politics, or the future. But difference does not have to mean division. On the contrary, a community can become stronger when people with different experiences can meet with respect and listen to one another.

Forum Suryoyo has just demonstrated the value of such meeting places. When people from different generations, professions, countries, and perspectives come together to discuss issues related to language, culture, and identity, opportunities for understanding are created that we must not underestimate.

I would therefore like to extend my warmest congratulations to Forum Suryoyo for its dedication and for a very successful, informative, and inspiring day, where knowledge and experiences came together from many different perspectives. A heartfelt thank you also goes to all the sponsors who helped make the conference possible, and to the board of Forum Suryoyo, who invited me and organized the program in a professional and much-appreciated manner.

At the same time, the conference gave me a reason to revisit an issue that has long been central to me:

What does it really mean to preserve one's identity?

I believe that the diaspora can be both our greatest challenge and our greatest opportunity. Our children and young people are growing up in Sweden, Germany, the United States, Australia, and many other countries. The majority language and culture are a natural part of their everyday lives. At the same time, we’ve never had greater opportunities to stay in touch with one another. That’s why I don’t see the diaspora as the end of our culture, but rather as an opportunity to carry it forward.

But identity is more than just traditions, food, music, and holidays. It also consists of language, history, stories, values, and, above all, a sense of belonging.

Culture has never been static.

A young Assyrian or Suryoyo may express their identity differently than their grandparents did. That does not necessarily mean that their identity is weaker. It may simply have taken on a new form.

For me, therefore, preservation is not about stopping change, but about ensuring that change does not cause us to lose our roots.

We can be fully integrated into Swedish, German, American, or Australian society while still embracing our Assyrian identity. We can belong to multiple communities and still know where our roots lie.

That is the great challenge facing the diaspora: to create an identity that has both roots and momentum. We also need to respect the fact that people use different terms to describe their identity. For some, “Assyrian” is the obvious term; for others, “Suryoye” or “Suryoyo.” Different terms need not prevent us from recognizing each other’s identity. Respect for differences can be a prerequisite for community.

Language and History

Language is one of the strongest vehicles of culture. It conveys not only words, but also memories, humor, stories, and ways of understanding the world. But it’s not enough to simply tell young people, “You must learn our language.” If the language is to survive, it must be present in their reality—in music, literature, film, social media, and other modern forms of expression.

It's not just about preserving the language. It's about using the language. The language must be a language for the future, not just a language of the past.

The same applies to history. Our young people need to know where we come from and understand the experiences of previous generations. But our history must not be told solely through the lens of persecution, loss, and survival. We also need to tell the story of our language, our Christian tradition, our Mesopotamian heritage, our culture, and our creativity. A generation doesn’t just need to know what we’ve survived. It also needs to understand what we have to contribute. When history is told with both pain and pride, it can become a source of knowledge, identity, and hope for the future.

The Family and the Younger Generation

The family is the first place where identity is formed. It is there that children are introduced to language, stories, food, music, and holidays. Women have historically played a particularly important role in this transmission. Mothers, grandmothers, and great-grandmothers have often passed down language, traditions, and stories from one generation to the next. This contribution needs to be recognized and valued.

But the responsibility cannot rest solely with the family. Organizations, churches, schools, and cultural institutions need to create environments where young people can use their language, learn their history, and meet others with similar backgrounds. Above all, the younger generation must be allowed to be more than just recipients of our cultural heritage. We need to ask: What does your identity mean to you? How do you want to express it? What do you want to pass on—and what do you want to create yourself? When young people gain knowledge, but also the freedom to think and create, identity can become more than just a legacy. It can become a conscious choice.

Dialogue is also part of our cultural heritage

In a diaspora scattered across many countries, we will always have different views on identity, history, the church, language, and the future. The challenge is not to eliminate these differences, but to be able to live with them without losing our sense of community. This was also an important message from the patriarch during the Suryoyo Forum: to respect one another’s views and continue to seek dialogue and unity.

Unity does not mean that everyone has to think the same way.

We can be different and still stand together around what unites us. Here, the diaspora has great opportunities. Through today’s means of communication, we can collaborate across national borders, strengthen our language, document our history, and create culture for new generations. Technology alone cannot save culture. What matters is what we fill it with.

A group of speakers and spectators at Forum Suryoyo
Building a Bridge Between the Past and the Future

For me, the identity of the future isn’t about choosing between the old and the new. It’s about building a bridge between them. We should be able to take pride in our heritage without getting stuck in the past. We should be able to change without forgetting who we are. And we should be able to live fully in the communities where we live without having to give up our cultural identity. Our task, therefore, is not to preserve culture exactly as it once was.

Our mission is to bring our cultural heritage to life in such a way that the next generation will want to carry it forward—and dare to give it a new form. We are scattered across the world, but we do not have to be divided. Our diversity can be a strength if we use it to create a future where our language, our history, our traditions, and our identity are not just something we remember, but something we live, develop, and pass on. That is when preservation becomes more than just clinging to the past. It becomes a way to shape the future. And perhaps that is the most important lesson from our time in the diaspora:

We do not preserve our identity by preventing it from changing. We preserve it by giving it roots, meaning, and enough vitality to change without losing itself. Because, in the end, our future does not depend solely on what we manage to preserve. It also depends on how well we manage to live together.