l Am Leaving Slovakia

The words I thought I would never say are becoming reality. I am leaving Slovakia.

When I returned from Paris at the end of 2024, I could not imagine living abroad again. I deeply believed that my place was here. That despite everything, Slovakia was where my energy, skills, and hope belonged.

I am now leaving for six months to zoom out and regain clarity. I would love to say that I am coming back immediately after. But if I am honest, I don’t think I am. And that realization hurts more than I can explain.

If you know me, you know that I have always been deeply committed to Slovakia’s future. I truly believed we could make this country prosper. And I still believe that we can.

This is not a story about giving up on Slovakia. No matter where I end up, I will always look for ways to help. To contribute. To stay engaged. But I do believe we owe ourselves a much deeper reflection as a society. We need to ask why so much talent is leaving—and why even the most persistent believers, the naïve idealists, are slowly breaking. There is something deeply wrong in Slovakia. And while politics play a role, the problem goes far beyond any single government.

For a long time, I avoided speaking publicly about the issues I see here. About situations that were, at times, simply impossible to endure. We normalize too much. We call dysfunction “reality.” I never wanted to contribute to the omnipresent apathy and skepticism that meet you at every step. I always tried to bring hope and optimism—because I believe these are exactly what we are missing. But optimism does not require blindness. And I believe now is the right time to speak honestly.

The first thing I truly struggle with in Slovakia—and one of the biggest obstacles to a better future—is negativity. The constant ability to find a hundred reasons why something cannot be done.

I am someone who genuinely enjoys thinking about systems: how they work, how they could be improved, what other countries have done differently, what variables mattered, what failed and why. I invest time in learning, observing, proposing concrete solutions—often small, realistic changes rather than grand transformations.

And almost every time, those ideas were met with the same response: It won’t work. It will fail. It’s pointless. The system is broken anyway.

So much creativity is spent on defending the status quo instead of improving it. People can list endless obstacles, yet struggle to name a single path forward. Over time, it becomes clear: many have simply given up—even on trying.

And underlying all of this is a familiar mindset: If they beat me, they beat me—what can I do, I’ll get used to it. That quiet resignation might be the most dangerous thing of all.

Another painful reality is how we treat talent.

Young people returning from some of the world’s best universities—Oxford, Cambridge, Sciences Po—often face not respect, but resistance. Envy. Dismissiveness. Sometimes open humiliation.

I have witnessed, and personally experienced, seniors belittling younger colleagues in public, questioning their intelligence, restricting their opportunities, silencing them in meetings, pushing them to the margins. Trying to convince them they are worth nothing. I don’t know whether it was because I am a woman, because I am young, or because some egos simply cannot tolerate competence but it was at times unbearable.

I do not say this to portray myself as a victim. I was always able to speak up and, when necessary, leave. But this is not just my story. It is the experience of many talented young people who genuinely want to help Slovakia, an yet are pushed out precisely because they could bring change. Places that truly value talent, mentorship, and growth are rare. Slovakia is unfortunately exceptionally good at losing people who actually want to help.

What worries me far more than people leaving is that we have slowly stopped dreaming. We have internalized the idea that we are small, unimportant, and therefore incapable of building great things. As if ambition simply does not belong here.

I genuinely cannot remember the last time I heard a serious public conversation about the vision of the country we want to live in. About becoming a technology leader. About having truly world-class healthcare. About functional, humane e-services that work for citizens instead of exhausting them. When I say things like this, people often laugh. And my question is: why? When did we stop believing this is even worth striving for?

A country of 1.3 million people, smaller than us, sharing a similar historical experience became a global leader in e-governance. Not because it was bigger or richer, but because it chose ambition and then looked for ways to get there.

Slovakia can build great things. We already have. GLOBSEC, ESET, the KInIT, and many others prove that excellence is possible here—when vision, drive and competence align. Slovakia does not lack talent. It does not lack intelligence. What it is lacking is the courage to imagine itself as something more—and then do the daily work required to become it.

And then there is a topic we do not like to talk about in Slovakia: money.

When I started looking at jobs in Vienna (just one hour from Bratislava), I was genuinely shocked. For similar roles, the pay was nearly three times higher, with fewer working hours. Not marginally higher but three times higher.

Rents are only slightly higher than in Bratislava. Food is comparable, sometimes even cheaper thanks to our well-thought through consolidation policies that lead to worsening economic situation.

Over the past year, I never had fewer than three jobs. At times, I had six, alongside multiple projects. Not because I enjoy exhaustion, but because I had no alternative if I wanted to cover my basic expenses. There were weeks when I gave two lectures a day, four to five days in a row—while writing articles, recording podcasts, finishing textbooks. It was often far beyond what was sustainable. Yet discussions about fair pay were almost impossible.

When I stated what I believed my time and expertise were worth, I was met with disbelief—as if asking for dignity was arrogance. Often, people expected me to work for almost nothing simply because the work was “meaningful.” As if commitment to society magically pays rent.

Of course, the situation in Slovakia is not the primary determinant of why I am not staying. The major reasons why I am leaving are mostly personal. But I do not want to pretend that it was not harder and harder to breathe. Harder and harder to find reasons to stay.

And this is the part I want to say clearly — because it matters to me: I feel a strong responsibility not to send the message that Slovakia or some fundamental values are not worth fighting for. I do not want anyone to give up just because I am leaving.

What is truly painful is knowing how much meaningful work remains undone. How many conversations I have to say no to — with students, young people, teachers, leaders. I loved what I was doing: lecturing, giving workshops, recording podcasts, creating spaces for reflection and learning. 

I am not leaving because that work stopped mattering. I am leaving because I reached my limits.

This is me starting a new chapter. The beginning happens to be in Belgium—but the ending could still be written in Slovakia. Or Ivory Coast, who knows. 

In the coming months, I will be starting my internship at NATO SHAPE. I see this not as an escape, but as an opportunity to learn, to grow, and to gain perspective that I hope will one day be useful—wherever “home” may ultimately be.

One thing, however, will not change:

I am not giving up on empathy.

I am not giving up on human dignity.

I am not giving up on the fight for a better future—for all of us.

No matter where I am, these values will remain at the core of everything I do. Even if it is no longer from my home country.