Halla Tómasdóttir, Nataša Pirc Musar

REYKJAVÍK—Humanity has never possessed greater capacity to shape its future, nor greater power to imperil it. Nuclear threats are rising, wars are devastating lives and communities, and AI is advancing at extraordinary speed, promising many benefits but also creating risks that we can only begin to understand, let alone mitigate. Yet at the very moment when international cooperation is most urgently needed, its foundations are eroding. International law is regularly being violated, and the rules-based international order that was painstakingly built over many generations is facing unprecedented challenges.

Forty years ago, at another perilous moment, the leaders of the world’s rival nuclear superpowers, US President Ronald Reagan and Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev, met in a small house in Reykjavík, Iceland. They disagreed profoundly on most issues, and their summit ended without a formal accord. But they dared to imagine a world free from the shadow of nuclear annihilation. By choosing dialogue over distrust, they laid the groundwork for historic arms-control agreements and changed the course of the Cold War.

The enduring lesson of Reykjavík is not that dialogue guarantees agreement, but that it is the indispensable first step away from mutually destructive zero-sum brinkmanship. Four decades later, we face a new generation of existential risks, and we need our leaders to show the same courage that Reagan and Gorbachev did. That is why we recently hosted another meeting at the same house, Höfði, convening leaders and thinkers from many countries, generations, and disciplines to consider what the legacy of the 1986 Reykjavík summit demands of us today. We were united by a conviction that should transcend all political and cultural differences: peace cannot be a passive aspiration; it is an active responsibility.

That responsibility begins with defending international law consistently and without exception. The values of sovereignty, human rights, peaceful dispute resolution, and protections for civilians cannot be upheld only when it is convenient to do so or depending on who violates them.

For smaller countries in particular, international law is not an abstract ideal, but an essential safeguard against power politics. Yet it also serves the interests of all countries, including the most powerful. A world governed by force rather than law is ultimately less secure, less stable, and less prosperous.

Our responsibility also extends to the technologies we create. Human judgment and meaningful human control must never be surrendered, least of all in decisions involving warfare, weapons, and nuclear command. As AI and other technologies advance, we must ensure that innovation promotes human dignity, democracy, social equality, and the protection of natural life on our shared planet. Technology must remain humanity’s servant, never its master.

We believe that our wisdom can guide our growing power, that our institutions will be able to adapt to new realities, and that our shared sense of humanity can inform the choices before us. But we must recognize that the challenges we face are interconnected, and we must not mistake technological acceleration for human progress.

This positive vision will never be realized through confrontation. In times of war and geopolitical tension, dialogue is too often dismissed as a sign of weakness. But as Reagan and Gorbachev understood, this view gets things backward. Dialogue requires courage. It does not mean that we must abandon our principles, accept injustice, or excuse violations of international law. On the contrary, it is often the mechanism for defending principles, managing risks, and opening pathways to peace. Far from being a way to avoid decisive action, dialogue is usually where meaningful, lasting progress begins.

Our dialogue on AI and other risks also must extend beyond the corridors of power. As the participants gathered in Reykjavík, young people across Iceland helped lead a national conversation about the future they will inherit. They brought generations together to reflect on the kind of society they wish to build and the values they want to carry forward. Their engagement was a powerful reminder that the challenges of our time cannot be left to governments alone.

We cannot credibly claim to be protecting humanity’s future while excluding those who will live longest with the consequences of our choices. Intergenerational responsibility must become a guiding principle of leadership, not an afterthought. The voices, ideas, and aspirations of young people must help shape what we do next.

At the conclusion of our gathering, we signed a communiqué, together with former Irish President Mary Robinson. In “A New Reykjavík Moment: A Call from Reykjavík,” we articulate the shared principles that must guide us through this dangerous period. Humanity must remain in control of the technologies it creates; peace must remain our highest priority; human dignity and international law must be upheld; and our decisions must reflect our responsibilities to one another, to future generations, and to the planet we share.

We do not pretend that such declarations can resolve the world’s crises. Principles matter only when they are translated into decisions and inspire action by others. We therefore invite citizens, scientists, educators, young people, business leaders, civil society, and communities everywhere to join us.

We need a new Reykjavík moment: not a single summit or a single agreement, but a renewed determination to place humanity’s common future above the forces that divide us. The world of 2026 is more complex than the world of 1986. There are more actors, more technologies, and more interconnected threats. No two leaders, however influential, can address them alone.

Yet the fundamental lesson of Reykjavík endures. History is not predetermined. The greatest danger we face lies in our failure to use wisely the extraordinary power we have created.

If the 1986 Reykjavík summit taught us anything, it is that a different future becomes possible when we choose cooperation over confrontation, and courage over fear. That choice is still ours to make.

Halla Tómasdóttir is President of Iceland. Nataša Pirc Musar is President of Slovenia.