Genocide Commemorated In Turkey

GENOCIDE COMMEMORATED IN TURKEY

asbarez
Thursday, April 26th, 2012

Genocide commemoration event participants at Taksim Square in Istanbul

ISTANBUL–Hundreds gathered in Taksim Square Tuesday to commemorate
the 97th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide, reported Today’s Zaman.

A sit-down gathering organized by the Say No to Racism and Nationalism
initiative in Taksim Square was attended by a group of public figures,
including wife of murdered journalist Hrant Dink, Rakel Dink; Peace
and Democracy Party (BDP) Istanbul deputies Sırrı Sureyya Onder and
Sebahat Tuncel; former Freedom and Solidarity Party (ODP) head Ufuk
Uras; journalists Oral CalıÅ~_lar, Huseyin Hatemi and Hilal Kaplan
as well as other intellectuals.

Protesters laid carnations in front of a banner that read, “This
pain belongs to all of us.” ZiÅ~_an Tokac, who made a statement on
behalf of the protesting group, said Armenians were sent into exile to
places where they could not survive, recounting atrocities committed
at that time.

Uras told reporters that Turkey will face its history and “shared pain”
in building a 21st century democracy. He added that people from all
walks of life were present at the sit-in protest.

Dink said Armenians had gone through things that she cannot even say
aloud and that they are still facing similar problems. Meanwhile,
two nationalist groups protested the gathering; however, police didn’t
allow them to approach the group.

AKP Founding Member Apologizes For ‘Geno-Deportations’

AKP FOUNDING MEMBER APOLOGIZES FOR ‘GENO-DEPORTATIONS’

asbarez
Thursday, April 26th, 2012

ANKARA (Armenian Weekly)–A founding member of Turkey’s ruling AK Party
called the Armenian genocide a “geno-deportation” and “personally”
apologized in an interview with the Turkish daily newspaper Radikal.

İsmet Ucma, a member of Turkey’s Grand National Assembly, added:
“Their pain is our pain.”

The parliament member noted that although the Committee of Union and
Progress was responsible for what happened, he personally apologized
for the suffering of the Armenians during what he called the
“geno-deportations.”

Ucma said that although violence was indeed employed against the
Armenian deportees, what happened to the Armenians was not genocide,
but a “geno-deportation,” the violent deportation of an entire
ethnic group, because if the perpetrators wanted to commit genocide,
“annihilation methods employed by the Spanish and Portuguese in South
America, or those employed by the Americans against Native-Americans,
or the Germans against the Jews would have been used.”

The very annihilation methods that Ucma was referring to were indeed
employed against the Armenians.

Asked about reparations, Ucma said that he finds land demands absurd,
although he noted that no one should live is someone else’s house. In
this context, he said, the government’s initiative to return some
confiscated property to non-Muslims was a positive step.

The Turkish government has promised to return less than 10 percent of
properties confiscated since the 30â~@²s from non-Muslim minorities. No
properties confiscated during the Armenian genocide have been returned.

Kurdish Parliamentarian to Push for Commemoration Day

In a more meaningful gesture, and according to reports, Kurdish
Parliamentarian Sırrı Sureyya Onder is working on bringing a motion
declaring April 24 a “Day of Mourning and Sharing the Pain of the
Armenian victims of 1915.”

Onder is a member of the pro-Kurdish BDP in Istanbul. He is a filmmaker
and columnist who was elected into parliament in 2011.

Light In The Darkness

Light In The Darkness
by Ara Khachatourian

asbarez
Thursday, April 26th, 2012

Author Peter Balakian

EDITOR’S NOTE: As part of Asbarez’s ongoing partnership with Yerevan
Magazine, we present an interview with author Peter Balakian that
was published in the January/February issue of the magazine. The
interview also appeared in Asbarez’s Genocide Special Issue, published
on April 24.

Peter Balakian is undeniably one of the prominent authors whose
literary work, which includes six books of poems, numerous essays,
non-fiction books and a memoir, have influenced and transformed
literary, cultural, political, social, and psychological understanding
of the issues surrounding memory and historical trauma.

Among one of such recent references is an entry in a book entitled
Fifty Key Thinkers in Genocide Studies. The author of the entry,
Holocaust scholar Paul Bartrop, noted that Balakian’s work helped
open up the field or began discourse that has to do with memory,
history, and trauma. For the critics and experts, his works strongly
demonstrate the importance of literary imagination and its ability
to embody the darker aspects of history.

INTERVIEW LIANNA ZAKHARIAN PHOTO TANYA KECHICHIAN

Little can be added to the information about the author who has
a best-selling memoir (Black Dog of Fate), translated an important
Armenian Genocide survivor memoir by his great-uncle Grigoris Balakian
(Armenian Golgotha), wrote about the history of his people (The Burning
Tigris: The Armenian Genocide and America’s Response), and as one
of the prominent poets in America, reflected on his entire life’s
experiences and emotions. In addition, knowing his professionally
meticulous linguistic approach, it was somewhat anticipated, and he
confirmed, that he would be very cautious when it comes to interviews,
because as he stated, “I believe that in oral conversation we are
not as precise and accurate as we need to be.”

The Balakians live in Hamilton, a rural college town in the center of
New York State in a landscape that is defined by rolling pastures and
small dairy farms. The nearest city is Syracuse, which is in about
fifty miles northwest. Hamilton is a typical New England country
town with its large town green zone and a big white clapboard inn at
one end. Its architecture is a display of American history from late
Federal brick, Greek classical revival, high Victorian and Queen Ann
houses, and a variety of modern houses. It has a traditional feel but
with a bustling college campus that gives the town some sophistication.

Colgate University is one of the most beautiful campuses in the
country. It’s an elite liberal arts college with a superb student
body and a great faculty. “It’s been a good place to be for me as a
writer and a teacher for the past thirty years,” explains Balakian.

Peter’s wife, Helen Kebabian, is the director of the Office of
Government, Foundation, and Corporate Relations at the University.

They live in a three-story house made of local stone. Built in
1828, it’s a historic house that was once part of the Underground
Railroad. The fugitive slave quarters are still intact on the third
floor of the house in the walled off area behind Balakian’s own
study. “To have that human rights history in my own space is always
a powerful thing. History is never past,” he says as he positions
himself at his desk, with his vast library as a backdrop. “There are
almost ten thousand books here. It’s too much. I have to get rid of
some,” he says with a sigh.

LIANNA ZAKHARIAN: Teaching is a big part of your life. What do you
teach and how do you manage to write while you are teaching?

PETER BALAKIAN: I teach a variety of courses at Colgate. I am the
Director of Creative Writing Program, which is a thriving and dynamic
program within our English Department. I teach creative writing
workshops in poetry and courses in American literature, mostly 19th
and 20th century poetry. And I teach one course a year called Modern
Genocide for our core curriculum program; and this course is an honors
course for advanced students. It deals with the Armenian Genocide and
the Holocaust as the two templates for modern genocide, but students
can and do work on later genocides of the 20th century.

For me, the key has always been to keep writing through it all. Even
on the days I’m teaching, getting to my desk for an hour or two keeps
whatever book I’m working on moving. It’s always a juggling act,
writing and teaching. Teaching, of course, involves meeting with
students regularly and also being part of the university and the
department, which is a whole universe of institutional obligations.

The key is to still be moving with and in your work when the semester
ends so you can shift into a higher gear. People think we professors
have the summer and holiday vacations off. That’s unimaginable.

L.Z.: A writer and a poet needs a variety of experiences. Do you have
time to travel?

P.B.: My life has gotten more complicated in the past fifteen years,
especially after Black Dog of Fate and The Burning Tigris came out
and were translated into various languages. I’ve been asked to lecture
around the world and give papers and readings at conferences.

This has all been good and rewarding, but it adds another dimension to
how many things one can juggle. I’m trying to find a balance between
international travel, conferences, readings, lecture tours, teaching
and writing, and being with family and friends. One good thing is
that grading papers and exams on long international flights is very
effective; there are no distractions, no interruptions. In recent
years, being in Greece, Australia, Lebanon, Syria, Argentina, across
Europe, in Armenia and across the U.S. and Canada has been energizing
and has taught me a lot about the global complexity of Armenian culture
and a good deal about other cultures. And, it’s good for my writing.

L.Z.: You have just come back from France, how did it go?

P.B.: I was part of a week-long festival that the French National
Center for the Book put on for Armenian writers. It was superbly
done. There were 20 of us from around the world. A number of writers
from the Republic of Armenia, some from France, and other parts of
Europe, Argentina, and Viken Berberian and I were the two from the
U.S.A. We did a couple of readings or panel discussions in Marseilles,
Valence, Avignon, Lyon, and Paris.

L.Z.: Why did the French government do this?

P.B.: They have a deep feeling about Armenian history and culture and
a sense of the long historical ties between the two cultures. And,
they wanted to celebrate Armenia’s 20th anniversary this way. It was
a joy to see a government embrace the Armenian voice, to reach out to
the literature of Armenian culture. There was no fear of the Armenian
intellectual voice as there is in the U.S., where the issue of the
Armenian Genocide is a source of anxiety to our government because of
Turkey. The French, like most of the world, are far beyond that – what
else can one call it – immaturity. It would be nice if our government
could learn something from the French in this respect. It was a special
trip, and for me, it was particularly important, having translated
with Aris Sevag my great uncle’s genocide memoir, Armenian Golgotha,
to go to one of the six churches he built in Marseilles when he was
the Bishop of Southern France in the 1930s, and open the festival
with talk about him and his work.

L.Z.: You write about tremendously tragic events. In addition,
the writer’s job in general requires long hours of sitting. How do
you balance your daily life, or as one of your articles is entitled
“How a Poet Writes History without Going Mad?”

P.B.: You have to keep the spirit happy while you are writing about
complicated dark issues. I have my own rituals and working out is
always part of my day. As a kid and a teenager, football, basketball,
and baseball dominated my life. Keeping the body moving every day
is a good counter-force to the sedentary life of a writer. You work
out some of the inner stuff that writers struggle with and you clear
your head. I watch a lot of Yankee games and hang out with my family
and friends at every break I can take. Helen and I and our Colgate
friends think nothing of driving an hour to north Syracuse to a great
Chinese restaurant on a sub zero night for some popping Szechuan food
and camaraderie with our writer friends in Syracuse. I also collect
antique rugs and post World War II art. And music is also essential
whether it’s Telemann and Bach, Miles Davis or Bob Dylan. Beauty
helps keep the spirit happy.

L.Z.: It was a difficult shift for a poet to start writing about the
darker era of our nation. How did it change you personally writing
Black Dog of Fate?

P.B.: It took me about seven years to write the memoir because, as
a poet, my language and my literary style and orientation were not
defined by narrative storytelling. So, I had to sort of teach myself
how to write in a new genre, and you can’t do that overnight. I was
working in my own cave, trying to figure out modes of storytelling
about a family, its history, and my own coming of age and personal
journey into a dark history that was never spoken about openly in my
family. I spent a lot of time thinking about form and narrative and
its relationship to lyric language, which is the place I work from
as a poet.

L.Z.: How did you respond to being in the public more often?

P.B.: It was interesting to be on television and radio and in front
of larger audiences. It wasn’t just about me and my book and that
kind of thing, it was gratifying to be able to discuss the larger
history of the Armenian Genocide. It was also challenging and not
always fun to have to deal with Turkish nationalists who would come
out to my events to deny history.

L.Z.: Did you get a lot of resistance from that group?

P.B.: In the late 1990s, when I was on the road with Black Dog
of Fate, the Turkish nationalists would come out and protest and
sometimes be disruptive by passing out leaflets of Turkish state
propaganda. Nothing ever violent, just disruptive. What was most
disturbing, in a psychological and ethical sense, was not to hear any
voices from the Turkish world that were thoughtful, reflective, and
empathic. And then that changed, happily, by the early 2000s: there
emerged a group of Turkish scholars, like Tanner Akcam, Fatma Muge
Gocek, Ragip Zarakolu, Elif Shafak, and others, who were also bravely
struggling for the same kinds of truth and acknowledgments from their
country concerning the Armenian past and other taboos inside Turkey.

It became clear to many of us that Turkey had layers of progressive
people and forces and that the nationalists did not really own
Turkey. There has been much growth toward genuine intellectual critique
in Turkey, but still it’s a giant struggle and just last November, the
Turkish government imprisoned dozens of intellectuals and journalists
including my Turkish publisher, the brave and trail-blazing Ragip
Zarakolu. This is a tragedy, and I hope the world can help Turkey
see that.

L.Z.: Do you think there is a general change of attitudes in Turkey?

P.B.: I think that progressive Turkish scholars, intellectuals and
human rights activists were always there, but they didn’t have much
civic space inside their own country or enough access to forums
in the U.S.A. and Europe. They were overshadowed by the militant
ultra-nationalists. But, in the past 15 years, these progressives
were able to be heard outside of Turkey and they came of age and
became more public. And historical works on the Armenian genocide by
Taner Akcam, for example, were translated into English and made a big
impact. This made it possible for somebody like Hrant Dink to emerge
inside Turkey and start the work he started. Even though he was cut
down by the Turkish deep-state, his work is alive and the doors he
opened are still open, and people are walking through them.

L.Z.: Why did the Black Dog of Fate gain such popularity among larger
audiences?

P.B.: I never expected that the book would be well-received, I mean,
one just really writes a book because one’s haunted and goaded by a
story that one wants to tell, needs to tell. The primary urge is to
make language and tell a story and to realize your materials in the
richest aesthetic terms possible. After that it’s a roulette game, you
never know what will reach the world and be received. When Black Dog
of Fate got such an immediate affirmative response, I was delighted and
surprised. A prose book gets you into the public more than poetry does,
which is too bad because poetry should be in the center of all things.

L.Z.: How can you define contemporary American literary scene? Is
there a community of writers in the U.S.?

P.B.: The U.S. is an enormous multicultural society with many vital
literary scenes. It’s almost too much to fully take in, so writers
find their own literary subcultures and communities. Some of them are
defined by the region, like the writers of the American South, that
has a strong sense of regional identity, or certain kind of writers
who consider themselves New England writers, or writers of the Great
Plains or the Pacific Northwest. And these subcultures and communities
can be defined by various dimensions that include aesthetic values,
cultural identities, notions of genre, etc.

Personally, I have my community of writers and artists in my backyard,
around the country, and the world. I am in New York City frequently. My
community of writers and film and visual artists and actors make my
life much richer and better in this otherwise quite solitary work. I
feel blessed by such friendships.”

L.Z.: What are your plans for the future and what are you currently
working on?

P.B.: My recent book of poems, Ziggurat, was published in the fall
of 2010 by University of Chicago Press and got an affirmative response.

I did an National Public Radio (NPR) interview for it on September 11,
2010 because some of the book deals with the aftermath of 9/11.

I’m currently working on a new book of poems, and a book of my essays
that I have been collecting over the past 20 years or so. Some of the
essays are on Charents and Gorky and American figures, like the poets
Theodore Roethke and Hart Crane; others are on issues in poetry and
poetics, film and painting and music.

L.Z.: Some of your poems have aspects of Japanese poetry with their
observations of nature with subtle minimalist gems of description in
them. What inspires you in your poetic work?

P.B.: Well, many things of course. Nature and the organic world is
one of them. The impact of history is another, and painting, film,
and the visual arts also inflect my work. But these dimensions often
get entangled and layered in a given poem. In the poem “Flat Sky of
Summer,” for example, a young boy is immersed in a book of art plates,
and that immersion opens up into an explosion of imagination and in
the end, after the boy has encountered European masters, he finds the
Armenian palette and fragments of history. The poem goes for wild color
and imaginative flight. I brought Toros Roslin into that. It ends with
Toros Roslin and Gorky. It’s about, among other things, the power of
color, and transformation of artifacts into perception. In Ziggurat,
I have a series of poems that take off on Andy Warhol silk screens. .

L.Z.: Your poetry includes many sensual textures, just as your memoir
does. You included a very sensual description of your family’s Sunday
dinners in the chapter entitled “Tahn on Crabtree Lane” in your memoir
Black Dog of Fate. Does your generation preserve these family rituals?

P.B.: Cuisine and cooking are very important to me. Recently, Saveur
Magazine asked a group of American writers to write about the memorable
meals of their lives. I wrote my piece about an Armenian feast with my
family in the 1970s, in which a Bolsetsi family and a Tigranakertsi
family brought their cuisines together. I made the point that such
a feast would not have been possible without the Genocide and the
ensuing Diaspora because these cultures would never meet in old
Anatolia. And so the explosion of the sensuous Eastern Mediterranean
seafood palate of mediya and fish plaki coming together with more
Arabic dry, spicy cooking of Southeast Anatolia, including muhamara
which is fundamentally Arabic, and slow baked lamb and vegetable
stew. And, yes, we still gather around the dinner table as a family
of generations. We still enjoy our family feasts.

L.Z.: It was a revelation to learn about your aunts in Black Dog of
Fate, women who were so educated and well-known in the literary world.

P.B.: They are both dead now, my Aunt Nona died in 1991 and my Aunt
Anna died in 1997. As you know, Nona was an editor at the New York
Times Book Review for over forty years and Anna a leading scholar
of French literature and a professor at NYU (New York University)
for decades. I learned a lot from them and I wrote about some of
those encounters and journeys in Black Dog of Fate. Their examples
were very powerful because they were people for whom the world of
literature was a way of life as well as a profession.

L.Z.: Do your children follow in your steps professionally?

P.B.: My daughter Sophia is 27 and she is doing her Ph.D. in
cultural anthropology at the University of Illinois, training to
be an Africanist. Right now she is in Kenya where she is studying
Swahili and beginning to think about her field work. My son James is
almost 23, and at the moment he is in Washington D.C., working for the
NGO (non-governmental organization) National Democratic Institute,
which works on democratic elections worldwide. He is just out of
college and this is his first job out of college. I’m proud of their
passionate interests in progressive politics and the world of ideas
and their commitments to social justice and economic fairness. At
the moment, we live in a society that is very unfair to many of its
good and hard-working citizens and they want to be part of helping
change happen.

The intensity of tragic events that he describes, his poetic sensuality
and subtle sensitivity conveyed a certain sense of vulnerability
that made me wonder whether, paraphrasing Shakespeare, “Excessively
honoring the dead,” he was doing “disservice to the living.” However,
his healthy lifestyle, his rich intellectual, creative and social life,
and his optimism proved otherwise. These are, apart from his talent,
the reasons why Balakian’s works continue to fascinate and inspire
readers worldwide.

 

Collection of Balakian’s works

Peter Balakian Poet and nonfiction writer Peter Balakian was born on
June 13, 1951 in Teaneck, New Jersey. He earned a B.A. from Bucknell
University, an M.A. from New York University, and a Ph.D. from
Brown University. He has taught at Colgate University since 1980
where he is currently Donald M. and Constance H. Rebar Professor of
the Humanities, and Director of Creative Writing. He was the first
Director of Colgate’s Center for Ethics and World Societies. He is
the author of six books of poems, most recently Ziggurat (2010),
as well as June-tree: New and Selected Poems 1974-2000 (2001). The
others are Father Fisheye (1979), Sad Days of Light (1983), Reply
from Wilderness Island (1988), Dyer’s Thistle (1996), and several
fine limited editions.

His work has appeared in numerous magazines, such as The Nation,
The New Republic, Antaeus, Agni, Partisan Review, Poetry, The Kenyon
Review, Slate, The Virginia Quarterly Review, and in anthologies such
as New Directions in Prose and Poetry, The Morrow Anthology of Younger
American Poets, Poetry’s 75th Anniversary Issue (1987), The Wadsworth
Anthology of Poetry, and the four-CD set Poetry On Record 1886-2006
(Shout Factory). Four fine limited editions (with illustration) of
Balakian’s poems have been published by The Press of Appletree Alley
(Lewisburg, PA). He is the author of the memoir Black Dog of Fate,
winner of the PEN/Albrand Prize for memoir and a New York Times Notable
Book, and The Burning Tigris: The Armenian Genocide and America’s
Response, winner of the 2005 Raphael Lemkin Prize and a New York
Times Notable Book and New York Times national best-seller. He is
also the author of Theodore Roethke’s Far Fields (LSU, 1989). His
essays have appeared in Art In America, American Poetry Review,
The Chronicle of Higher Education, The American Quarterly, American
Book Review, and Poetry. He is co-founder and co-editor with the
poet Bruce Smith of the poetry magazine Graham House Review, which
was published from 1976-1996, and is the co-translator of the book of
poems Bloody News from My Friend by Siamanto. Balakian’s awards include
a Guggenheim Fellowship; National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship;
Emily Clark Balch Prize for poetry, Virginia Quarterly Review 2007;
Movses Khorenatsi Medal from the RA, 2007; Raphael Lemkin Prize, 2005,
(best book in English on the subject of genocide and human rights);
PEN/Martha Albrand Prize for Memoir, 1998; the New Jersey Council for
the Humanities Book Award, 1998; Daniel Varoujan Prize, New England
Poetry Club, 1986; Anahid Literary Prize, Columbia University Armenian
Center, 1990. His works have been translated to Armenian, Arabic,
Bulgarian, Dutch, French, Greek, German, Hebrew, Russian, and Turkish.

Caucasus Development Bank To Finance Projects In Armenia

CAUCASUS DEVELOPMENT BANK TO FINANCE PROJECTS IN ARMENIA

news.am
April 27, 2012 | 14:59

YEREVAN. – By initially allocating US$ 40 million, several
international finance organizations have founded the Caucasus
Development Bank. Valeriu Razlog, Head of the Yerevan Office of the
European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD), stated this
during a press conference on Friday.

The EBRD, International Finance Corporation (IFC), Netherlands
Development Finance Company (FMO), and Black Sea Trade and Development
Bank (BSTDB) have invested in the Caucasus Development Bank.

The Bank’s Armenia branch will operate in cooperation with the United
States Agency for International Development (USAID).

In his turn, Dutch Ambassador Peter Ian Langenberg noted that Armenia
has developing companies plus those that are full of prospect.

Three Armenian Soldiers Killed On Azeri Border

THREE ARMENIAN SOLDIERS KILLED ON AZERI BORDER
Ilya Pitalev

RIA Novosti
27/04/2012
YEREVAN

Three Armenian soldiers were shot dead overnight on Friday on the
contact line between the armed forces of Armenia and Azerbaijan,
Armenia’s Defense Ministry said.

The servicemen were killed when as their car was riddled with bullets
on the road between two borderline villages in Armenia’s northeastern
Tavush province.

Armenia and the Armenian-backed breakaway region of Nagorny Karabakh
have reported intensified ceasefire violations over the past few days,
according to ArmeniaNow.com news portal .

The conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan erupted in the late 1980s,
when Nagorny Karabakh claimed independence from Azerbaijan. The war
is estimated to have left more than 30,000 people dead on both sides
between 1988 and 1994. The region has since remained under Armenian
control.

Russia has been mediating peace talks for nearly two decades.

Russian President Dmitry Medvedev said recently the conflict could
be settled anytime if the two states agreed to compromise.

The AYF-YOARF Central Executive announces new project Tebi Javakhk

The AYF-YOARF Central Executive is proud to announce a new project
this year called Tebi Javakhk

hetq
23:48, April 28, 2012

The AYF-YOARF Central Executive is proud to announce a new project
this year called Tebi Javakhk.

During the 2011 AYF-YOARF Convention, a decision was made to focus the
AYF’s efforts on a city within Historic Armenia or the Diaspora. The
purpose of this effort was to educate AYF members on the current
conditions of the city, provide assistance to the Armenians living
there, and establish communication between our youth and the youth
living there. Javakhk was chosen this year because of the difficult
living conditions created by the discriminatory policies of the
Georgian government.

Since January, the Central Executive has been educating local chapters
on Javakhk and working with them to develop fundraising and material
collection projects. In the meantime, the AYF’s Central Hai Tahd
Committee has been working on an effort to establish communication
between the youth of the two regions. The result of CHTC’s efforts is
a Day Camp for the youth of Javakhk to be run by counselors from the
AYF-YOARF Eastern Region.

Within the months of July and August, there will be two separate day
camps, one in Akhalkalak and one in Akhaltsukha. These camps will be
open to 50 children each within the ages of 5-16. The camp program
will include educationals, games and activities of all kinds and of
course a Hantes for all the friends and families of the participants.
Local AYF-YOARF Eastern Region members are eager to be a part of this
project and, per the project’s name, `put their boots on the ground’
in Javakhk.

Additional information on the Tebi Javakhk project will be released in
the next few weeks, particularly information on how local Armenian
community members can help. For immediate questions, concerns or
comments, please contact the AYF Central Hai Tahd Committed at
[email protected] or on facebook at `Tebi Javakhk’
.

Ungeragan Cherm Parevner

AYF-YOARF Eastern Region Central Executive

http://www.facebook.com/TebiJavakhk

Karakhanyan: Ali Babacan making negligent statements

Karakhanyan: Ali Babacan making negligent statements

17:31 28/04/2012 » Politics

`That man is simply lying and making negligent statements. The world
has accused Turkey for failing the Armenian-Turkish relations,’ Vazgen
Karakhanyan, deputy chairman of NA standing committee on foreign
affairs told Panorama.am.

Turkey’s Deputy PM and former FM Ali Babacan stipulated the
Armenian-Turkish relationship by the process of Nagorno-Karabakh
issue. `We hurried and signed under the protocols, but
Armenian-Azerbaijani relationship has not advanced. Yet in 2007 we
vowed to operate practically if Armenia and Azerbaijan reached an
agreement.’

The MP stated that Ankara falsifies facts both in Genocide related
issues and in normalization process of Armenian-Turkish relations.

`Turkey has not been so courageous and failed the Armenian-Turkish
normalization process. And as the heads of our ally countries say `the
ball is in Turkey’s filed”

Source: Panorama.am

FW: "The Forty Days of Musa Dagh" restored and revised – 5/4/12

THE FORTY DAYS OF MUSA DAGH
by FRANZ WERFEL

Key Speakers:
– DR. VAHRAM SHEMMASSIAN, Associate Professor and Director of the Armenian
Studies Program, California State University, Northridge
“The Genesis of Franz Werfel’s The Forty Days of Musa Dagh”
– DR. RUBINA PEROOMIAN, Research Associate, University of California, Los
Angeles
“The Forty Days of Musa Dagh – A Timeless Tale of Resistance, Gallantry, and
Love”

FRIDAY, MAY 4, 2012 – 7:30PM
GLENDALE CENTRAL LIBRARY AUDITORIUM
222 E. Harvard Street, Glendale

Admission is free. Reception to follow. Validated Parking at Marketplace
parking structure, Harvard & Maryland. For more information, call (818)
243-4112. Presentation will be in English with a summary in Armenian.

The Forty Days of Musa Dagh is Franz Werfel’s masterpiece that brought him
international acclaim in 1933, drawing the world’s attention to the Armenian
Genocide, and foreshadowing the Holocaust that was to come. This is the
story of how the people of several Armenian villages in the mountains along
the coast of present-day Turkey and Syria chose not to obey the deportation
order of the Turkish government. Instead, they fortified a plateau on the
slopes of Musa Dagh-Mount Moses-and repelled Turkish soldiers and military
police during the summer of 1915 while holding out hope for the warships of
the Allies to save them.

The original translation from German by Geoffrey Dunlop has been revised and
expanded by translator James Reidel and scholar Violet Lutz. The Dunlop
translation had excised approximately 25% of the original two-volume text to
streamline the novel for film adaptation. The restoration of these passages
and their new translation gives a fuller picture of the extensive inner
lives of the characters. What is more apparent now is the personal story
that Werfel tells, informed by events and people in his own life, a device
he often used in his other novels as well.

19th-Century Azeri and Armenian Perceptions of National Identity

The Cultural Edge
Caught Between Turkey, Russia, and Persia: 19th-Century Azeri and Armenian
Perceptions of National Identity

Emil Souleimanov April 28th 2012 GLORIA Center

[image: Turkey in Asia and the Caucasus (1885 Colton map)]
1885 Colton map, `Turkey in Asia and the Caucasian Provinces of Russia’

The ethnic conflicts that have dominated the political landscape of the
South Caucasus-a historical crossroads of many civilizations, empires,
cultures, and peoples-since the years following the Soviet Union’s collapse
have generated strong ethno-nationalisms. They have played a crucial role
in determining inter-ethnic, and to a certain degree also inter-state,
relations in this post-Soviet area. Given the strategic location of the
South Caucasus-with its small populace historically sandwiched between
great powers-local ethno-nationalisms have been considerably affected by
the perceptions of neighboring states. These states once used to be empires
encompassing what are now Azerbaijan, Armenia, and Georgia.

In fact, modern nationalisms of contemporary Azerbaijanis and Armenians
have been significantly shaped in a complex historical context of the
second half of the nineteenth century and the first two decades of the
twentieth century. This reflects the way local elites interpreted the
ethno-linguistic, cultural, and political legacy of three major
empires-Turkey, Persia (Iran), and Russia, of which Azerbaijan and
Armenia had been part for centuries.

Focusing on the historical context, this article seeks to highlight the
evolution of perceptions toward Russia and the Russians, Turkey and the
Turks, Persia and the Persians. They developed themselves in the milieu of
Azerbaijani and Armenian intellectuals, as these perceptions helped shape
modern ethnic consciousness of the two South Caucasian nations. The article
hence focuses on the period of the second half of the nineteenth century,
tracing the developments up until 1920/1921. This was when the two-year
intermezzo of Armenian and Azerbaijani independence came to an end
following the occupation of these territories by Communist Russia.

*Azerbaijan*

*A Historical Perspective of Relations with Persia and Persians or Turks
and Turkey*

Since the eleventh century, when Oghuz nomads entered the picture, Iran’s
history can be regarded as a Persian-Turkic symbiosis, taking cultural
influences from both of these civilizations. Following a *coup d’état* in
1925, the PahlavÃ- Dynasty, the first purely Persian dynasty in Persia, was
founded. Its power was not limited to the borders of historical Persia.
>From the eleventh century until that point, tribes and clans of Turkic
origin had ruled over Persian lands, Azerbaijan, and the surrounding areas.
For nearly ten centuries, Iran represented a peculiar conglomerate of
Iranian and Turkic nations; until relatively recently, the actual toponym
`Iran’ carried much greater semantic weight than it does today.

In the beginning of the sixteenth century, the Safavid ruler Shah Isma’il I
made Shi’i Islam the state religion. The spreading and strengthening of his
hold on the region rested on the military elite of the Qizilbash tribal
union, which brought together the Turkic tribes of Persia and the southern
Caucasus. The majority of Azerbaijanis and Persians adopted Shi’i Islam at
that time. This strengthened the devotion of Turkic tribes to the idea of
Iranian statehood and particularly intensified the Persianization of the
tribal elite. The new religion was a powerful impulse for territorial
expansion. Decades of so-called Persian-Turkish or Shi’i-Sunni wars
followed. The fortunes of war alternated, favoring one side then the other.
>From the sixteenth century through the first third of the nineteenth
century, the khanates of northern and southern Azerbaijan were either an
integral part of Persia or were in a state of war against
Tabriz/Isfahan/Teheran. Successful attempts to gain emancipation from its
domination were, however, not uncommon.

A definitive change did not arrive until the two Russo-Persian wars, in
which St. Petersburg was more successful. According to the peace treaties
of Gülistan (1813) and TürkmänÄ=8Day (1828), the territory of the
north-Azerbaijani khanates (north of the border on the river Arax) was
handed over to the Romanovs. Azerbaijan thus came to be divided into
northern and southern parts inhabited by one nationality that spoke one
language. From the turn of the nineteenth century onwards, the idea of a
divided homeland or *severance* (*ayriliq* in Azerbaijani) was reflected in
the ideological and political solidification of Azerbaijani national
consciousness. This influenced the beginnings of nationalism.

The formation of the Azerbaijani identity at first played out as a contest
between two ideological and political currents. The first current stressed
the primacy of culture and religion (*société persane*), while the second
emphasized origin derived from language. The creation of a unified
Azerbaijani identity was effectively hindered not only by traditional
clan/territorial differentiation, but also by the existence of two
widespread denominations within Islam. While the preponderance of
Azerbaijanis were adherents of Shi’i Islam and were inclined toward the
Persians, the strong Sunni minority-inhabiting mainly the west and north of
Azerbaijani territory-identified more with their Turkish and Dagestani
fellow believers.

As Tadeusz Swietochowski writes, `the depth of the sectarian split was
reflected in the nineteenth-century wars waged by Russia, when the Tsardom
was able to use Shi’ite volunteers against Turkey in 1828 and 1853-1856 as
well as against Shamil’s Ghazavat (holy war) in Dagestan. By contrast, the
Sunnis tended to support Shamil, sometimes taking up arms, and showed
restiveness at times of Russo-Ottoman conflicts.’ In the 1830s alone, there
were three local uprisings in the northern areas of contemporary Azerbaijan
bordering on Dagestan, all connected with Shamil’s movement.

In the end, Turkish language and culture won out. In the early twentieth
century, the pro-Turkish or pro-Turkic orientation of Azerbaijani identity
was clearly profiled. In the meantime, the role of religion in the emerging
secular, pro-Western, modernistic nationalism was limited. The result was
the growing orientation of the local elite toward the Ottoman Empire, which
was regarded as the flagship of the (pan-)Turkic movement and at the same
time as a leading Muslim country. It was to the Ottoman Empire that the
pan-Turanist revivalists from the Crimea to the Altai tied their hopes.

No less intensely felt was the rediscovery of `Turkic brotherhood’ in
various parts of the Russian Empire-in the Volga-Ural region, northern and
southern Caucasus, Central Asia, and Crimea. Thanks to the developments in
the first decades of the twentieth century, the political forces that were
behind the emergence of the independent Azerbaijan Democratic Republic
(1918-1920) could declare: `The Muslims of the Transcaucasus [i.e.
Azerbaijanis] together with the Turks constitute one nationality.’ From the
beginning of the twentieth century, bourgeois circles in particular laid
claim ever more vocally to their Turkic identity. Still, not at all
uncommon among the aristocracy was a historically based orientation toward
Iranian statehood. Moreover, the apolitical countryside still identified
itself more on the basis of religious criteria as Muslims or in accordance
with family, clan, or territorial criteria, the foundations had been laid
for the Azerbaijani identity as a lingual and territorial phenomenon.

This noteworthy change of identity was sealed during the last months of
World War I, when in the autumn of 1918, after the withdrawal of the
Bolshevik army and of Armenian revolutionary forces, the Ottoman troops and
the mostly Azerbaijani Army of Islam briefly occupied Baku. The Turks were
welcomed in Azerbaijan as rescuers and liberators who, together with
Azerbaijani militia units, rid them of the bloody rampaging of Armenian
militias, even at the cost of murdering thousands of Armenian civilians in
the capital. Until their withdrawal in the fall of 1918, when they were
replaced by British occupation forces, Turkish troops were largely
responsible for the creation of an independent Azerbaijan. They also
provided significant aid in the fight against Armenian rebels in Karabakh.

*A Historical Perspective of Relations with Russians and Russia*

The relationship with Russians in the Muslim Caucasus has never been
unambiguous. By most of the population, Russians were regarded as
`infidels’ who-as opposed to the Christian Armenians and especially
Georgians-exhibited almost no sympathy toward Azerbaijanis, especially
during the initial period of colonization. For St. Petersburg, the Muslim
Azerbaijanis represented a potentially treacherous element. At the time of
the wars against Russia in the nineteenth century in the northern Caucasus,
there was a threat several times that the conflict could spill over into
territory inhabited by Azerbaijanis. This was potentially a very unpleasant
scenario for the empire in view of the local population’s strong ties to
Persia and Turkey.

According to the *Caucasian Calendar for 1853*, Caucasian Tatars (i.e.
Azerbaijanis) are `fiery, impatient, predisposed to brutality, preferring
an itinerant way of life; when the government weakens they cross over to a
different government or to anarchy; they do not forgive wrongs, but are
vengeful, tenacious …’

About ten years earlier, a Russian officer reported from Karabakh that with
the Tatars, their way of life and their morals were inconsistent:
`According to their customs and beliefs, lying, banditry and plundering are
worthy of praise,’ and to abduct a girl, and while doing so to kill `at
least a man or even her very own parents and then to marry her is
praiseworthy, youthful heroism.’ As a consequence, `they cannot be real
supporters of the Russian government, and in case of any political
upheaval, they will be prepared to rise up against us.’

Even sources that attribute to Azerbaijanis mostly positive qualities
(`hard-working, manly, full of determination, not inclined toward changes
and novelties’) do not fail to emphasize that `one cannot at all rely on
their peacefulness and loyalty.’ Still, the number and the extent of
anti-colonial uprisings in Azerbaijani lands were small, especially in
comparison with other areas of the Muslim (northern) Caucasus. Among other
things, this was due to the fact that in its regional policy, St.
Petersburg relied on the established Azerbaijani aristocracy, who were
granted a certain degree of autonomy. At least at first, this approach
provided the appearance of continuity of power and legitimacy in the eyes
of ordinary farmers and herdsmen, for whom the arrival of the Russians
changed almost nothing. Occasional local disturbances were generally
suppressed by the armed forces of the local feudal lords, khans, or beks,
and not by mounted Cossacks or the army.

Existence within the framework of the Russian state provided the
inhabitants of the southern Caucasus with decades of stable socioeconomic
growth. However, it was primarily Russian, Armenian, and foreign capital
that profited from the oil wealth of Baku. Also playing a considerable role
was the long-term influence of Russian culture and learning, especially for
the formation of the local intellectual elite, for whom the Russian
language and culture served as a bridge to Western culture and modernizing
tendencies that (Western) Europe was undergoing. This is another reason the
Azerbaijani revivalists of the nineteenth century, with their anticlerical
tendencies, had generally positive relations with Russia and Russian
domination.

Although the Azerbaijanis, as a Muslim nationality, were relieved of the
duty of serving in the Russian army, some of the old feudal elite regarded
military service as an honorable privilege. Still, there was noticeably
less participation by Azerbaijani nobility in the officer corps of the
Russian army than by the nobility of Georgia and Armenia, also
corresponding to the degree of involvement of those ethnic groups in the
societal life of tsarist Russia. Relatively weak anti-Russian attitudes
characterized the period after the Russian revolutions of 1917. This can at
least partially be explained by the fact that the disappearance of the
power of St. Petersburg from the region left behind a power vacuum that
both the Armenians and Azerbaijanis tried to fill, striving for control
over several areas that they jointly populated. Armenians and not Russians
were perceived as the chief threat accompanying the brief existence of the
independent Azerbaijan Democratic Republic (1918-1920). Even after the
South Caucasian republic had been occupied in April 1920 by divisions of
the eleventh Red Army, anti-Russian attitudes did not strengthen. The armed
resistance to the occupation in certain areas of the country was not,
however, definitively suppressed until 1924.

The period of Soviet domination was characterized by escalating autonomy
for Azerbaijan-especially after World War II, the newly established local
elite played an ever greater role-and by generally calm Russian-Azerbaijani
coexistence. Yet the ultimate outcome was tragic. On January 20, 1990,
Soviet Army units invaded Baku. Their official goal was to prevent the mass
murder of Armenian civilians, being instigated by fanatical crowds, mainly
refugees from Armenia. The Soviet troops deployed in the capital city and
its environs had been following the events passively for more than a week.
The Azerbaijanis, however, clearly interpreted this brutal attack, which
led to the deaths of dozens of civilians and injury of hundreds more, as
punishment from Moscow for the increasingly emphatic demands for
independence heard at ongoing demonstrations by many tens of thousands
followers of the nationalist opposition in Baku. Their original mission had
been to prevent the transfer of Nagorno-Karabakh under the administration
of Yerevan.

*Armenia*

*A Historical Perspective of Relations with Turks and Turkey*

>From the ecumenical Council of Chalcedon (451 CE), Armenia began to view
the West and Persia to the south) as a source of constant threat. Since
then, the geostrategic interests of Constantinople, which strove to gain
this important territory in its struggles with the Persians and later the
Arabs, combined with a religious effort to bring the Armenian `heretics’ to
Orthodox Christianity. Although the Armenians gave Byzantium a number of
important statesmen and military commanders, Greek-Armenian antagonism was
so strong at that time, that many Byzantine Armenians viewed the victorious
breakthrough of Seljuq Turks into Anatolia a thousand years ago as
salutary. This antagonism continued, and even seemed to have strengthened
during the Ottoman era.

At first, the strengthening of the Turkish element in Asia Minor actually
brought Armenian communities in Anatolia more religious freedom. The Muslim
rulers granted this to the vassals of other faiths in exchange for loyalty.
This benevolence included the possibility of maintaining their own faith
and identity. The Armenians in the Ottoman Empire, like other `People of
the Book’ (Christians and Jews), enjoyed the status of *dhimmis* or wards
of the Muslim community or state. They were regarded as an independent *
millet*, i.e., political-religious community. While that formally
determined their lower social status, they still had the guaranteed
possibility of stable development within the framework of communities under
autonomous administration.

During the Balkan uprisings in the first half of the nineteenth century,
the Armenian community, unlike the other Christian subjects, did not
question the sultan’s authority. As a result of their loyalty, Armenians
received the distinction of being called *millet-i sadika* or a faithful
nation. In the nineteenth century Turkey, the standing of the Armenian
urban community-generally the bourgeoisie and intellectual elite=80’grew
enormously. It reached its apex in the late nineteenth and early twentieth
centuries, when Armenians were at the heart of the economic, cultural,
and-in a certain sense-political life of that empire of multiple
nationalities.

During this period, however, the Armenians of eastern Anatolia became
targets of ever more intensive attacks by the Ottoman army and Muslim
militias. From 1894 to 1896, there were massacres of the Armenian
population. According to various estimates between 80,000 and 300,000
Armenians were killed. This sharp turnaround in Ottoman relations with
Armenians was caused by a whole series of factors.

Foremost among them was the new tax system introduced in Turkey in the
second half of the nineteenth century. Yet the higher taxes had to be paid
without the abolition of the old taxation system, which existed in areas of
Anatolia in parallel to the new one and accommodated the traditionally high
demands of feudal lords-landowners, the Kurds generally and Armenians as
well. This also left room for ubiquitous corruption, cronyism, and anarchy.
The situation further deteriorated after thousands of so-called Muhajirs or
Balkan Muslims were settled in the none too fertile regions inhabited by
Armenians. This was usually done to the detriment of the Armenian and
Syriac Christians.

As if that were not enough, at the same time Istanbul gave approval for
ever larger numbers of nomadic Kurdish tribes to migrate farther to the
north and northeast, i.e., into territory that had traditionally been
populated by the Armenian element. `The Kurds, nomads and semi-nomads,
would winter in the regions of Mush, Van, and around Ararat, occupying
upkeep and tribute from the Armenian peasants, forcing them to purchase
their protection (*hafir*), pillaging with impunity, and carrying off women
and flocks. The usual reactions of the Armenian peasant and artisans were
flight and emigration toward Constantinople, Smyrna, and Transcaucasia.’

In response to these developments, in the mid-nineteenth century in some
areas of Anatolian Armenia, armed divisions began to appear spontaneously.
Their main goal was to resist Kurdish raiders. The first Armenian
rebellions (in 1862 in Zeitun and in 1863 in Van and Erzurum) were
anti-Kurdish in character. As with the earlier Balkan uprisings, Christian
farmers initially asked for the sultan’s protection. Yet `[l]ocal Turkish
officials ran the towns with little regard to central authority, and
Kurdish beys held much of the countryside under their sway. Often the only
way Istanbul could make its will felt was by sending in the army.’

These events, which took place in the Anatolian countryside, coincided with
an emancipation movement that was gaining strength among Armenian
intellectual circles in Russia and Europe as well as in the major Ottoman
cities. Once the `Armenian question’ had entered the stage of grand
European diplomacy at the Congress of Berlin (1878), it was politicized
once and for all. The initial efforts of a handful of Armenian revivalists
to improve the situation of the Armenian population in the Ottoman Empire
were soon taken up by St. Petersburg as part of its foreign policy agenda.
This was an excellent tool for meddling in the internal affairs of the
`sick man of the Bosporus.’ The publicly declared goal of protecting
Ottoman Christians was a convenient excuse for expansion into the interior
of Anatolia.

The disconsolate state of Armenian farming in Anatolia became the center of
attention for several Armenian revivalist organizations. This included the
three oldest and largest Armenian socialist revolutionary parties, whose
members did not hesitate to use terrorist or diversionary-terrorist means
of armed resistance during certain periods. These were the revolutionary
group Protectors of the Homeland, founded in 1882, and the three
aforementioned socialist revolutionary parties-Armenakan (meaning
`Armenian’ in the Armenian language), founded in 1885; Hnchak (Armenian for
`bell’), founded two years later; and the Armenian Revolutionary Federation
(Haykakan heghaphokhakan dashnaktsutiun), also known by the shorter name
Dashnaktsutiun, founded in 1890.

In various stages of their existence, these parties aspired for the
founding of an independent Armenian state or the incorporation of eastern
areas of Anatolia, regarded as an integral part of western Armenia, into
the empire of the Romanovs. Before long, it came to clashes with Kurds in
several east-Turkish areas. Attacks were also launched against Ottoman
military units and police. Sometimes the targets of the attacks were even
Muslim civilians. It was generally believed that St. Petersburg was
supporting these activities. The revivalist organizations thus helped to
mobilize originally apolitical Armenian villagers, leading to the formation
of an armed resistance movement.

In a relatively short time, Ottoman Muslims began to view the Armenians as
a homogenous ethnic-religious community, a `fifth column,’ trying to
undermine the state’s integrity with the support of foreign powers. In any
case, after a series of uprisings and wars-which cost the humiliated
Ottoman sultanate extensive territory in the Black Sea region and the
Balkans while also causing the arrival of hundreds of thousands of Muslim
refugees to an economically devastated country-the seeds of distrust of the
Ottomans toward their Christian fellow citizens had now been sown.

The High Porte was entirely deaf to the desires of its Anatolian vassals.
Wherever possible, it resolved attempts at separatism in the standard
manner-through military intervention. This was also confirmed by the
suppression of several local rebellions of Kurdish tribes in Anatolia
before the 1860s by army units. Sultan Abdul Hamid II (in power from 1876
to 1909), nicknamed `the Butcher’ (not only among Ottoman Christians),
ruled during a period of Ottoman fears of the destructive activity of
European powers trying to break up the empire. The efforts toward
emancipation of the Armenian community were thus *a priori *interpreted in
the light of this global Christian conspiracy against the caliphate.

At the same time, Istanbul was becoming more and more concerned with the
increasing cooperation between certain Kurdish tribal chiefs with ideas of
autonomy and the Russians. These fears were confirmed during the
Russo-Turkish War (1877-1878). Turkey was defeated in 1891. Soon after, on
the basis of an analogy with mobile Cossack regiments, whose deployment in
the previous war had proven extraordinarily successful, Abdul Hamid II
authorized the formation of the Kurdish militia divisions (*hamidiye*), to
which he lent his name. Besides, `it was important to stiffen the resolve
of Kurds as part of the empire.’ The Kurdish tribes from which members of
the hamidiye were recruited were exempt from paying taxes. Their only duty
was military service to the sultan, for which they received regular pay.
Nonetheless, `when the government could not afford to pay hamidiye
officers, it offered them tax-collecting rights on local Armenian villages,
causing further hardship for the latter.’

Before long, the armed Kurdish tribes, given broad authority for protection
of the border with Russia in the eastern provinces, began engaging in
battles over the region’s limited resources. This occurred both among
individual hamidiye divisions and between those divisions and the local
population, whether Kurdish, Turkish or Christian. `Local commanders did
not differentiate between enemies of their tribe qua tribe, and enemies of
the hamidiye cavalry.’ Eastern Anatolia thus became an arena of regular
armed conflicts of a local character, in which the Christian population
suffered the most.

The Armenians’ calls on Istanbul to intervene in the name of protecting its
Christian vassals and in order to stabilize the remote East-Anatolian
vilayets were in vain. At the end of the nineteenth century, Istanbul
generally avoided armed intervention in the area, partly in order not to
incur the wrath of the populous and powerful Kurdish tribes, and partly
because the Kurdish-Armenian antagonism seemed to have suited Istanbul.
Given this situation, the aforementioned massacres of 1894-1896 took place
with the participation of local police forces and especially of hamidiye
units and ordinary local Muslims.

The tragic climax of the deepening crisis was the so-called Armenian
Genocide in 1915. The circumstances of this event have not been
satisfactorily brought to light to this day. The Young Turk regime appears
to have decided in part for the liquidation of the Armenian population and
in part for its expulsion, in order to prevent the feared penetration into
the interior of Anatolia. The result was the murder of hundreds of
thousands of people, the greater part of the Armenian population of
Anatolia, by Ottoman divisions and hamidiye units; others were subjected to
fatal conditions during deportation. The remaining Armenian survivors were
then Kurdified of Turkified, and tens of thousands of others managed to
escape to the disintegrating Russian Empire, the West (to France or the
United States), Syria, Lebanon, or other Arab areas of the sultanate (which
before long came under the mandate of France or the United Kingdom).

Massacres also recurred during the assault of the Turkish army across the
entire newly-created Armenian Democratic Republic in 1918 as well as during
the brief Turkish-Armenian War (1920). In response, there were extensive
ethnic cleansing and murders of thousands of people belonging to the
Turkish and Azerbaijani population, who constituted approximately one third
of the population of independent Armenia. Used as an excuse for this was
the fact that Turkish farmers and herdsmen had largely taken the side of
the Turks.

It was during the period of the tragic events at the end of the nineteenth
and beginning of the twentieth centuries that the view of Turks as a
`nation of murderers and ruffians’ became definitively sealed in the
Armenian national consciousness. This was further strengthened by conflicts
with the Azerbaijanis of the southern Caucasus. The interpretation of the
catastrophic year 1915 fit in thematically with the religiously imbued
self-image of Armenians as a nation of martyrs. This seems to be the source
of the ease with which the events became an integral part of the Armenian
national myth. Even before 1915, literary and musical works had spoken of
the suffering of Armenian women and children, the courage of Armenian
partisans, and the boundless brutality of the Turks.

*A Historical Perspective of Relations with Russians and Russia*

Russia’s penetration of the Caucasus was welcomed by the Armenian
intellectual and especially clerical elite, as well as by ordinary people.
Their common religion played no small role in this. Divisions of Armenian
volunteers had existed beginning with the two Russo-Persian Wars
(1804-1813, 1826-1828), during which the territory of eastern Armenia
became part of the empire of the Romanovs, and in nearly all of St
Petersburg’s Turkish campaigns in the Caucasus and eastern Anatolia
(1806-1812, 1828-1829, 1877-1878, 1914-1917).

The Russians were perceived by the Armenian revivalists, whose ideas had a
significant cultural/religious component, as liberators from the
thousand-year yoke of the `heathen.’ In the first half of the nineteenth
century, some Armenians even believed St. Petersburg would allow the
restoration of a sort of Armenian tsardom, as an autonomous entity under
the protectorate of the Romanovs’ empire. Although for various reasons such
optimistic hopes were never fulfilled, Armenian migration to the Caucasus
from the Ottoman Empire and Persia was supported by Russian authorities in
every possible way. Between the nineteenth and twentieth centuries,
hundreds of thousands of Armenian refugees founded numerous prospering
communities all over the Caucasus as well as in the southern parts of
Russia itself.

As far as the Russian view of Armenians is concerned, these attitudes
underwent certain changes during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
Until 1917, hatred toward the `Jews of the Caucasus,’ as Armenians were
often called for their business talent, was not uncommon among `Greater
Russian’ chauvinists. Unlike the Azerbaijanis, who were generally
distrusted by the Russian authorities and who were sometimes seen as having
the character of noble savages, Armenians were regarded more as a
religiously and politically kindred element. According to the Russian
opinion of the day, Armenians `without any doubt take first place among the
inhabitants of the Transcaucasus for their ability, industriousness and
effort to educate themselves’ and `have always been regarded as the most
industrious workers of the East.’ Russian authorities accounted them as
`peaceable, gentle, cautious, calculating, diligent, tied to their
families, industrious, delicate, quiet, obedient, trying to act [in
compliance with] the law …’ Besides their talent at business, many
documents underscored the unquestionable loyalty of the Armenians, who were
viewed as `devoted to the Russian government and could not betray us.’

>From the early 1900s, with elements in the Armenian elite becoming
revolutionary, the Russian attitude began to regard Armenians as a
potentially dangerous `nation of revolutionaries and conspirators.’
According to the daily *Russkoe slovo*, `any Armenian in the Caucasus is
regarded as a revolutionary just for being Armenian.’ The Armenians were
the most politically conscious inhabitants of the Transcaucasus at the time
and offered the stiffest resistance to the Russification campaign that St.
Petersburg had begun in the 1880s. Russian relations to the Christian
Armenians during this period could be best characterized as condescending
accommodation.

In spite of occasional disappointment with the policies of St. Petersburg
in the affairs of eastern Anatolia or the none too pro-Armenian approach of
the colonial authorities regarding the so-called Armenian-Tatar War of
1905, the Armenians were always sympathetic toward Russians. This was the
result of the Armenians’ increasing concerns for their own safety.
They saw
themselves as `an island of Christendom in a hostile (i.e., Turkic-Muslim)
environment.’ In direct proportion to the deterioration of Armenian
relations with their immediate neighbors (the Turks and Azerbaijanis) over
time, the orientation of Armenia’s elite toward Russia strengthened. Russia
was seen as the only power willing and able to provide sparsely populated
Armenia with a guarantee of existence in a situation of geopolitical
stalemate.

In spite of the country’s occupation by the Eleventh Red Army (1920) and
the end of Armenian independence, during the following decades this
consciousness served for the consolidation of the nationality both in the
Armenian Soviet Socialist Republic and among nationalistically oriented
Armenians in the diaspora. The 70 years of existence within the USSR
further strengthened Armenia’s orientation toward Russia. Also contributing
to this was the significant social role played by Armenia in the Soviet
state. These factors also help explain why in Armenia-unlike in neighboring
countries-the breakup of the Soviet Union was accompanied by almost no
anti-Russian sentiment.

*Conclusion*

During the Soviet and post-Soviet period, a modern national self-awareness
for Azerbaijanis and Armenians arose. This reflected the process of
self-identification that afflicted small peoples of the borderland areas at
the crossroads of empires. In case of Azerbaijanis and Armenians, that
process involved Russia, Turkey, and Persia.

The Azerbaijani intellectual elites in the nineteenth century considered
`Persianness’ and `Turkishness’ as two identity options for themselves. The
first principle mentioned reflected the existence of a highly Persianized
culture and common Shi’i religion of the predominant part of the
Azerbaijani populace that had been part of Persia for centuries. The second
phenomenon emphasized the primacy of language and thus ethnic origin, which
was thought to cement Turkophone Azerbaijanis with Anatolian (or Ottoman)
Turks. The primacy of language eventually prevailed as Azerbaijanis
overwhelmingly began to identify themselves with neighboring Turkey=80’and
their Turkic roots.

Over time, their nationalism obtained strongly Turkic intonations. This was
amplified as early as 1918, when Azerbaijanis found themselves in a bloody
armed conflict with neighboring Armenians. It was the aid provided by the
Turkish forces in the Caucasus that helped Azerbaijanis eliminate the
Armenian threat and lay the foundations of independent Azerbaijani
statehood. In the meantime, a once close relationship to Persia gradually
diminished. This was conditioned by the strongly secular character of
Azerbaijani nationalism and the overall decline of religiosity during the
Soviet period. The Russians and Armenians were also considered as
adversarial cultures.

While the perceptions of Persia played a rather marginal role in the
development of Armenian self-consciousness of the last centuries, the
dramatic events of the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth century that
took place in eastern Anatolia and the South Caucasus laid the ground for
modern Armenian nationalism. Since then, anti-Turkic sentiments have been
the core of that ethno-nationalism as they established themselves during
the last decade of the existence of the Ottoman Empire. This period was
marked by a series of massive Armenian pogroms and massacres culminating in
the events of 1915-1916 in which hundreds of thousands of Armenians were
murdered.

The negative perceptions of Turkey and the Turks were further magnified
during what came to be known as the Armenian-Tatar War of 1905, as well as
during the 1918-1920 wars waged by independent Armenia with neighboring
Azerbaijan and Turkey. Importantly, Azerbaijanis began to become
increasingly identified with Anatolian Turks, which helped refocus
anti-Turkic sentiments toward Turkophone Azerbaijanis as well. In the
meanwhile, the image of Russia was sealed as the only ally-a Christian
nation that was able and willing to provide Armenians with the necessary
assistance for the latter to secure their physical survival in the
unfriendly environment of Turkic (Muslim) neighbors.

*Emil Souleimanov is assistant professor at the Department of Russian and
East European Studies, Faculty of Social Sciences, Charles University in
Prague. He wrote this
articlefor
the
*MERIA Journal*, a project of the GLORIA Center,
from where it is adapted.*

Levon Aronyan plays draw with Kramnik

Levon Aronyan plays draw with Kramnik

19:52, 28 April, 2012

YEREVAN, APRIL 27, ARMENPRESS: On April 28, Armenian Grand Master
Levon Aronyan played draw with black figures with Vladimir Kramnik in
the last – 6th game of the chess tournament held in Zurich, Armenpress
reports citing the official website of the competition. The final
result of the match is 3:3.