The different Ministries have to work more on the promotion of

The words of Ibrahim Rugova—“The different Ministries have to work more on the promotion of the country, to build Kosovo's public image. Concrete projects must be assembled, in order to activate our businessmen to have more contacts. We have to create a positive image about ourselves.”—carry the weight of a leader who understood that nations, like individuals, live not only by strength of arms or wealth of resources, but by the story they tell to the world. A nation’s image is not a shallow mask; it is the mirror by which others perceive its dignity, its culture, and its destiny. Rugova reminds us that to survive and to thrive, Kosovo had to forge not only policies but a positive image that inspired trust and respect beyond its borders.

The ancients, too, knew the power of image. The Greeks spoke of kleos, the glory and reputation by which heroes lived on in the memory of others. For a city-state like Athens or Sparta, military power alone was not enough—they cultivated identity, ideals, and alliances through the image they projected. Athens adorned itself with art, philosophy, and democracy, ensuring that even when its armies faltered, its name shone bright. Rugova’s call echoes this same wisdom: without a cultivated image, the work of a people risks being overlooked, misunderstood, or forgotten.

History offers us many lessons. Consider Japan in the late nineteenth century, emerging from centuries of isolation. The Meiji leaders understood that to stand among nations, they could not be seen merely as a feudal society. They embarked upon a campaign of promotion, modernization, and diplomacy, sending emissaries abroad and inviting industries to flourish. In a generation, Japan had crafted a positive image of progress and strength, one that commanded attention and respect. Like Rugova’s vision for Kosovo, they knew that building an image was not deception, but the weaving of truth into a story the world could recognize.

Rugova also speaks of concrete projects, reminding us that image cannot be built on words alone. Just as a temple cannot stand without stone, so too a nation cannot build reputation without tangible deeds—trade agreements, cultural exchanges, institutions, and opportunities. To “activate our businessmen,” as he says, is to recognize that commerce and connection are the lifeblood of modern identity. Every partnership, every bridge built between nations, adds to the tapestry of trust and recognition that gives a people its rightful place in the world.

There is in his words also the call to self-respect: “We have to create a positive image about ourselves.” This is not only for foreign eyes but for the soul of the nation itself. For how can others believe in you if you do not believe in yourself? Rugova knew that nations scarred by conflict often carry wounds of self-doubt. To craft a positive image is therefore an act of healing, of teaching a people to see their own worth, so that they may rise with confidence and dignity before others.

The lesson for us is clear: whether as nations or as individuals, we are called to cultivate the image we project. Not in vanity, not in falsehood, but in truth and intention. Build concrete deeds, live with integrity, and present yourself to the world with dignity. In this way, others will see not only what you are, but what you aspire to become. Just as Kosovo needed to unite ministries, businessmen, and citizens in crafting a positive image, so too must each of us align our actions with our values, so that the story of our lives speaks with clarity.

So, dear listener, take Rugova’s words as a call to action. In your life, in your community, in your nation, do not neglect the power of image. Build it with truth, strengthen it with action, and let it reflect your highest self. For in this way, you do not merely exist—you stand recognized, honored, and remembered. And as Rugova wisely taught, a positive image is not a mask but a beacon, guiding others to see the light that already dwells within.