GetReligion
Aug 13 2011
Can’t Armenians and Azerbaijanis just get along?
The Washington Post published a news feature the other day about the
stunningly complicated and delicate post-Soviet-era standoff in and
around Nagorno-Karabakh, which pits Armenians against Azerbaijanis. On
top of the story, of course, is a feature photograph – the first in a
series.
If you have ever seen a news feature about Eastern Orthodoxy you have
probably seen this photo. It shows worshipers (represented, perhaps,
by one or two symbolic hands in the frame) gathered around one of the
sandboxes kept near the doors of Orthodox sanctuaries, which are there
to safely hold those lovely golden beeswax candles that the faithful
light as they make prayers for loved ones, for those who have died, as
a sign of thanksgiving, out of concerns about difficulties in life,
etc., etc.
For copyright reasons, I cannot show you the photo – but click here to
go see it.
When I first started reading this long piece, I got hung up on the
cutline that was underneath this photo. The photo, once again, showed
people in prayer and worship – perhaps even people praying about those
lost in the years of bloodshed in this troubled region.
The cutline, however, stated:
Peace remains elusive as Armenians and Azerbaijanis, unleashed from
Soviet control 20 years ago, keep each other in the gunsights.
I sensed a bit of a disconnect there.
Thus, as I read the story, I wondered if the Post team (backed by the
Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting) was ever going to get around to
the religious issues that are at the emotional heart of the conflict.
Meanwhile, the story starts like this:
STEPANAKERT, Nagorno-Karabakh – This is where the first war set off by
the Soviet collapse took place. And it may be where the next one
breaks out.
Twenty years ago, Armenians and Azerbaijanis, unleashed from Soviet
control, waged a bitter struggle for this mountainous region in the
South Caucasus. A cease-fire was reached in 1994, after about 30,000
people had been killed, leaving Nagorno-Karabakh outside Azerbaijan’s
control, as an unrecognized, de facto republic in the hands of ethnic
Armenians.
Since then, no one on either side has had the will to hammer out a
settlement. Tension has been put to use by those in power – in
Azerbaijan, in Armenia proper and here in separatist Nagorno-Karabakh.
Democracy, human rights, an unfettered press, a genuine opposition –
these are the sorts of things that get put aside in times of crisis.
And here, the crisis has been going on for two decades and shows
little sign of letting up.
This is one of those stories that mixes politics, ethnicity, centuries
of complications and, of course, religion into one complex picture.
However, mainstream journalists often seem reluctant to deal with the
role of religion in these stories – even if that is one of the first
things that people on the ground at the scene will talk about.
Roughly halfway into this report, readers finally hear one of those
caught up in the conflict say: `We will live and prove to the world
that Karabakh is the heart of the Armenian nation and the spirit of
the Armenian nation. The land on which we live has become sacred from
the blood of our martyrs.’
You see, the Armenians tend to use words such as `sacred’ and
`martyrs’ in a religious context (and they have had to do this a lot).
A few lines later, another Armenian voice calls Karabakh `holy.’
Finally, a few more paragraphs later, readers get a glimpse of the
religious history involved in all of this:
The Armenian kingdom was the first to adopt Christianity as its
official religion, in 301, and Azerbaijanis are Muslims, though both
sides like to play down the religious divide. (Iran favors Armenia,
for one thing.) Yet Armenians marked their tanks with white crosses.
And at the mountaintop Gandzasar Monastery, where the St. John the
Baptist Cathedral was consecrated in 1240, there is a regular liturgy
for the `martyrs’ of the war.
`The strongest thing that keeps us here is our faith,’ Prime Minister
Ara Harutyunyan said. Then, using the Armenian name for Karabakh –
Artsakh – he invoked a prophet who is a major figure in both
Christianity and Islam. `In Artsakh, we have 70,000 Abrahams. We fully
realize our children can become sacrifices any day. But we still live
here, still give birth to children. And we think this is the main
guarantee of our security.’
There’s a lot more to the story, including some strong language about
the role of corruption in Armenian politics (and among the
Azerbaijanis, perhaps?). In the background loom other nations that
could get involved – such as Turkey and Russia. Religion is woven into
those connections, too.
Everyone agrees that there might be another war. That would be bad.
Children and farm workers are still being killed by mines from the
most recent conflict in a region that has seen more than its share of
conflict.
Religion seems to have a little bit to do with it. But clearly the
main problems are political. Between the lines, the message seems to
be this: If only the combatants were not so emotional about all of
this – with their talk of `sacred’ ground and `martyrs.’
I finished the story and read it again. Twice. I still do not know
what it was all about.
But religion does seem to play a small role in the region. Just a
little role, like at the beginning and then at the end of almost
everything that happens in and around Nagorno-Karabakh. Oh, and in the
middle, too.
IMAGE: St. John the Baptist Orthodox Cathedral at Gandzasar Monastery.
http://www.getreligion.org/2011/08/cant-armenians-and-azerbaijanis-just-get-along/