Reports of the suspension appear to have originated from JNS, which cited an unnamed official as saying the vote had been suspended on Sunday.

The official did not explain why the vote was postponed, but JNS noted the move came at a ‘delicate diplomatic time’, pointing to the renewed conflict between Israel and the US and Iran and an early July NATO summit in Turkey where Ankara sought to acquire F-35 fighter jets from the US.

JNS also reported that parliament was set to go to summer recess and will be out of session until the 27 October elections in Israel.

The outlet has also reached out to Foreign Minister Gideon Sa’ar, who had put forth the proposal to recognise the genocide, but did not receive a response.

Sa’ar’s proposal was unanimously greenlit by the Israeli government. At the time, Sa’ar called the move to recognise the genocide ‘a moral duty’.

The move received a cold response from Armenia, with Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan declining to comment on it, saying that Israel was ‘weaponising’ the genocide.

‘We see no need to respond because we believe that refraining from entering into the issue of the weaponisation of the Armenian Genocide is in the interests of the Republic of Armenia’, Pashinyan said in late June.

The Israeli government’s approval of the resolution drew intense criticism from Azerbaijan and Turkey, with the latter accusing Israel of seeking to ‘cover up its own crimes’ in Gaza.

Turkey denies the Armenian Genocide, which was orchestrated by its predecessor state, the Ottoman Empire. The genocide resulted in the mass killings of nearly 1.5 million Armenians living in what is modern-day eastern Turkey.

Azerbaijan, which is allied to both Turkey and Israel, called the move ‘a matter of serious concern’ and urged the Israeli government to ‘reconsider’ what it called the ‘distortion of the historical facts surrounding the events of 1915’.

On 7 June, the Israeli outlet Ynet cited unnamed Azerbaijani officials as saying the government’s decision to recognise the genocide ‘triggered a deeper crisis in Israel–Azerbaijan relations than has been publicly visible’. The officials said that Azerbaijan views the recognition as Israel ‘crossing a red line’, and that it had ‘failed to reciprocate the support Azerbaijan has shown Israel since the outbreak of the war’.

Ynet has also cited the Azerbaijani officials as saying that Azerbaijan was ‘deeply disappointed’ by the way the announcement was made, and that Baku was only made aware of the move ‘after the decision had already been published’.

Montreal-based Lebanese–Armenian director Marlene Edoyan’s latest documentary asks what futures exist for ethnic Armenians in rural Georgia.

A Fire There (2026) traces the lives of three young men — Henrikh, Karlen, and Hakob — in the majority Armenian village Gamdzani (Gandza) in Georgia’s southern Samtskhe-Javakheti region.

While all three men come from similar backgrounds, they each have different dreams and goals: Henrikh wishes to study in Tbilisi and eventually become a member of government to bring effective change to his home; Karlen wants to be a migrant worker in Russia, viewing it as a place of wealth and opportunity; and Hakob simply wants to build a life with his long-distance girlfriend Monika in the village, seemingly content with his work at the local cheese factory. All of their families have pinned their own hopes on these young men, seeing in them a chance for happiness or personal success that they themselves never got.

Filmed between 2022–2024, the documentary covers a wide swathe of the young men’s lives as they each attempt to progress with their varying goals. Yet, despite the many months of filming, the film is not fast-paced — instead, it operates as a slow-moving, artistic look at the rural, pastoral life of the Armenian villages in Georgia, where the main industries revolve around sheep and agriculture.

In between beautiful, wide shots of the landscape and villagers at work in their surroundings — often accompanied by Mathieu Charbonneau and Christophe Lamarche-Ledoux’s captivating soundtrack — Edoyan films the young men struggling with their emerging individual identities.

Some of the most interesting conversations caught on camera occur in an abandoned Soviet-era milking factory. From the first, the location gives rise to a debate on the success of the Soviet Union and whether things are any better today in an independent Georgia. From there, the discussion goes on to the changes in migrant work, Russia no longer the only attractive option when compared to Europe. As one of the young men puts it, ‘migrant work [has gotten] sophisticated’.

Seasons pass slowly as one by one the larger friendship group dissolves as the men move away to find their fortunes elsewhere.

For Henrikh, his time in Tbilisi during the 2024 foreign agent law protests awakens a new political impetus, one that his friends back in the village struggle to connect with. Back in the Soviet-era factory, the conversation this time revolves around Georgian politics and what choices they have. While Henrikh urges his compatriots to vote out Georgian Dream in the then-upcoming parliamentary elections, his friends ask, ‘Can we trust the newcomers to set up factories here?’, exemplifying the influence of economics in rural Georgia.

Beyond the focus on the three young men, Edoyan also manages to subtly capture the patriarchal gender dynamics of the village. Women in the film are forever in the background, never given true identities themselves or even a sense of a future other than to be a wife and mother. In one particularly poignant scene, a few young Armenian girls are baptised, after which the priest blesses them, wishing that they be grandmothers to big families. At this point, one girl turns to the camera, with a miserable look on her face — that the sum of her worth be solely tied to the fruit of her womb.

Despite being only a little over 90 minutes, A Fire There manages to convey a wealth of opinions, emotions, and more. The breadth of its focus is impressive, yet never feels too all-encompassing — the thread of the unknown future weaves all the concepts together, whether through the prayer of family members or shots of fortunes read from coffee mug remnants.

Film details: A Fire There (2026), directed by Marlene Edoyan. The film was screened on 14 July 2026 in Yerevan as part of the 23rd Golden Apricot International Film Festival.

https://oc-media.org/review-a-fire-there-an-atmospheric-study-of-ethnic-armenians-in-rural-georgia/

Lebanese–Armenian director Comes Chahbazian created this documentary from first-hand footage collected by a Stepanakert resident and his wife in 2023.

Over 200 days into the Lachin blockade, and with signs of a war on the horizon, Brussels-based filmmaker Comes Chahbazian asked his friend Artsiv to film his daily life in Nagorno-Karabakh, the footage and written updates building a portrait of a society under siege.

The first shot Artsiv takes is of his wife Tatev and five children walking down a dirt street. ‘Don’t you think everything looks strangely normal?’, Artsiv asks via a first-person narration derived from the letters sent to Chahbazian.

What isn’t captured by the camera are the long lines for food that never comes, the eeriness of empty streets that were once full of busy traffic. As Artsiv humorously puts it, Stepanakert has become an eco-friendly capital city due to the Azerbaijani blockade.

The footage Artsiv, and later Tatev, capture is strikingly mundane: plastic bags being washed and hung to dry, dinner being served, fussy children being soothed. Yet, being able to film these aspects of life provides a kind of ‘exorcism’ from the stress of their uncertain future.

Food is an ever-present preoccupation for Nagorno-Karabakh residents. Artsiv’s children complain about the lack of bread, complaining to Tatev that they cannot eat cooked squash without it. Nagorno-Karabakh volunteers cook two hedgehogs on a fire for their dinner meal. Yet, as the narration explains, despite the ongoing shortages, everyone helps their neighbours with what they can, this solidarity undergirding the film.

The film takes a darker turn, however, as Azerbaijan begins its last full-scale offensive against Nagorno-Karabakh. At times, it feels as if Artsiv and Tatev have become too reliant on the camera — in one scene, as the city is shelled by Azerbaijani forces during the night, one of their sons begs them to stop filming in near tears. It is a moment when Artsiv must decide whether to remain a documentary filmmaker or a father who comforts his children in their distress.

It is not long before Nagorno-Karabakh surrenders, which Chahbazian cleverly contrasts with the biblical phrase like a lamb to slaughter, placing the narration of Artsiv’s experiences of the surrender against imagery of a sheep in grass.

Artsiv and Tatev continue their filming as Stepanakert empties, its residents seeking safety in Armenia. Soon enough, the family also follows, filming their packing process and eventual days-long journey on the road out.

The film continues in Armenia, showing their transition to life in a new country. They visit supermarkets, overwhelmed by the options available; the kids spend time watching videos on their phones, reminiscent of youth everywhere. Yet, at the same time, they hold their memories of their home in Nagorno-Karabakh close. Despite leaving many things behind, including brand-new shoes, Tatev packed all of their unused ration cards, telling Artsiv ‘It’s so we remember’.

Yet, while they remember, they feel Armenians do not understand the loss of Nagorno-Karabakh, viewing the Christmas and New Year’s celebrations in Yerevan with distaste. Artsiv describes being surrounded by ‘indifferent people’, who don’t understand.

Even so, life continues. Chahbazian ends the film on a note of hope, with Artsiv and Tatev having rebuilt their lives in Armenia, including Tatev returning to her main livelihood and passion of painting. And both still hope to return to their homeland in Nagorno-Karabakh one day.

Film details: Here, Elsewhere (2026), directed by Comes Chahbazian. The film was screened on 14 July 2026 in Yerevan as part of the 23rd Golden Apricot International Film Festival.

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