Schweizerische Depeschenagentur AG (SDA)
SDA – Service de base français
10 août 2005
Développement Négation du génocide arménien For unique pour les
procédures contre le Turc Dogu Perinçek
Rédaction étrangère f
Berne (ats) La justice vaudoise instruira toutes les procédures
ouvertes contre le politicien turc Dogu Perinçek pour négation du
génocide arménien. Le chef du Parti turc des travailleurs faisait
jusqu’ici l’objet d’enquêtes à Winterthour et Lausanne.
“Toutes les affaires liées à cette problématique sont regroupées
à Lausanne, sous l’autorité du juge d’instruction vaudois Jacques
Antenen”, a déclaré mercredi à l’ats Nicolas Cruchet, substitut de M.
Antenen. Il confirmait une information parue dans le quotidien
alémanique “Tages-Anzeiger”.
Interrogé par l’ats, un représentant du Ministère public de Winterthour
a précisé que cette instance restait compétente en ce qui concerne
l’enquête ouverte contre l’historien turc Yusuf Halacoglu, également
pour négation du génocide arménien.
Venu en Suisse à la fin juillet à l’occasion de la célébration du
82e anniversaire du Traité de Lausanne, Dogu Perinçek a critiqué à
plusieurs reprises, à Lausanne et à Glattbrugg (ZH), “le mensonge
international” à propos du “soi-disant génocide arménien”. Des propos
qui contreviennent à la norme pénale contre le racisme.
La justice vaudoise a par ailleurs ouvert à la mi-juillet une enquête
contre le chef du Parti des travailleurs turcs après le dépôt d’une
plainte de l’Association Suisse-Arménie concernant un discours tenu
en mai à Lausanne.
Les procédures contre MM. Perinçek et Halacoglu ont provoqué un
regain de tension dans les relations entre la Suisse et la Turquie.
Le ministère des affaires étrangères turc a notamment convoqué
l’ambassadeur de Suisse à Ankara le 27 juillet pour lui faire part de
“la mauvaise humeur des autorités et de l’opinion publique turques”
et lui demander de suspendre les enquêtes.
Quelques jours plus tard, le Département fédéral des affaires
étrangères (DFAE) convoquait à son tour l’ambassadeur turc à Berne
pour lui expliquer comment s’applique le droit suisse en matière
de discrimination raciale. Par ailleurs, Ankara a reporté sine die,
la semaine dernière, la visite prévue du conseiller Joseph Deiss à
Ankara, officiellement pour des raisons d’agenda.
NOTE: 3e paragraphe nouveau (enquête sur Halacoglu)
–Boundary_(ID_hlPVPqaUSMen0PA77BMJuw)–

Pasadena Star-News (Pasadena, CA)
August 10, 2005 Wednesday
Condo project enrages neighbors
by Gene Maddaus, Staff Writer
PASADENA
Neighbors have been annoyed by the abandoned gas station at Allen
Avenue and Brigden Road for a long time. On a pleasant street where
Armenian bakeries and unassuming mom ‘n’ pop outfits sit
cheek-by-jowl with charming bungalows, the old gas station with its
peeling paint and imposing fence is an eyesore.
Now, a developer has decided to tear it down and put up something
new.
And that’s where the real problem begins.
Ara Tchaghlassian’s plan to build a three-story condominium complex
on the site has triggered neighborhood outrage and a 45-day citywide
moratorium on similar developments, which was approved unanimously by
the City Council late Monday night.
The project, neighbors say, is simply too big. From San Marino to
Altadena, nothing else on Allen Avenue is three stories tall. Next to
the low-slung bakeries and the single-story bungalows, it will look
hulking, towering a monster.
“This is a dreadful project for the neighborhood,’ said Councilman
Paul Little.
The moratorium will not affect Tchaghlassian’s project he already has
a building permit. Assuming, as seems likely, that the moratorium
will not be renewed in 45 days, it will not affect anything, said
Planning Director Richard Bruckner.
“It doesn’t look like there are any projects currently that are teed
up for entitlements that would be impacted by this moratorium,’ he
said.
Turning its focus back on Tchaghlassian, the City Council went so far
Monday night as to consider the extremely unusual and quite possibly
illegal move of revoking his building permit.
Little, who represents the neighborhood, even suggested in jest, he
says that the city refuse to provide power and sewer hook-ups to the
project once it’s completed.
“That may be leverage to get him to be more friendly with the
neighborhood,’ Little said. “That’s an extreme.’
Tchaghlassian pointed out that his project complies fully with the
zoning of the lot. He sought no variances.
The parcel has carried these automatic entitlements for decades,
Bruckner said. It is only recently, with skyrocketing land values,
that developers have been able to take advantage of them. There are
several more parcels in the same neighborhood that could be similarly
developed, if the owners had a mind to do it.
The moratorium is designed to give the city’s planners “breathing
room’ to draft new zoning rules to prevent further projects that are
out of scale with their neighborhoods.
As for Tchaghlassian, the City Council decided to meet privately with
him next week to attempt to resolve the issue. The city could either
pay Tchaghlassian not to build the third story or purchase the land,
among other options.
“Ara said he had some compromises in mind, like having the city buy
the property outright,’ said Liane Enkelis, of the Brigden Ranch
Neighborhood Association, which has protested the development the
loudest. “All of these compromises would not be made without a
monetary benefit to Ara.’
Enkelis has suggested that the city buy the land and turn it into a
pocket park.
“Older Armenian gentlemen could sit and sip coffee and play checkers,
while younger moms could stroll with their kids,’ she said.
It would be an unusual outcome.
“The circumstances surrounding this whole thing are unusual. There’s
nothing normal about this,’ said Councilman Chris Holden. “We’re
grappling with the right way to respond.’

Genozid an den Armeniern
General-Anzeiger (Bonn)
10. August 2005
Genozid an den Armeniern Kommentar “Gedaechtsnisarbeit” von Hubert
Kleine Stegemann am 6. August In dem Kommentar findet sich die
Behauptung, “die Mitglieder der deutschen Militaermission in
Konstantinopel” haetten “der tuerkischen Regierung 1915 zur
Deportat…
Kommentar “Gedaechtsnisarbeit” von Hubert Kleine Stegemann am 6.
August
In dem Kommentar findet sich die Behauptung, “die Mitglieder der
deutschen Militaermission in Konstantinopel” haetten “der tuerkischen
Regierung 1915 zur Deportation der Armenier geraten”. Eine solche
Anschuldigung findet sich auch nicht ansatzweise in irgendeinem der
mir bekannten Buecher zum Genozid an den Armeniern, weder
beispielsweise bei Johannes Lepsius, Armin T. Wegner oder Yves
Ternon, noch in dem von Tessa Hofmann im Auftrage der Gesellschaft
fuer bedrohte Voelker herausgegebenen Band “Das Verbrechen des
Schweigens” (Bericht ueber die Verhandlung des tuerkischen
Voelkermords an den Armeniern von dem “Staendigen Tribunal der
Voelker” in Paris 1984), in dem eine Anzahl internationaler Fachleute
eingehend alle Aspekte des Genozids vortragen. Er findet sich auch
nicht in der Serie “Wir werden euch ausrotten” des Spiegels (1992).
Der gaengige Vorwurf lautet vielmehr, die Reichsregierung haette es
unterlassen, durch eine Intervention bei der Hohen Pforte die
Vernichtung der Armenier zu verhindern. Es wird unterstellt, dass
eine solche Intervention erfolgreich gewesen waere. Ich halte das
fuer eine Illusion.
Absurd ist die Behauptung, dass sich “die (sic) Mitglieder der
deutschen Militaermission spaeter unter dem NS-Regime unter den
Ausfuehrenden des Massenmordes an den europaeischen Juden befanden”.
Der Chef der deutschen Militaermission in Konstantinopel, General
Otto Liman von Sanders, ist 1928 verstorben. Sein Stellvertreter
General Friedrich Kress von Kressenstein ging 1929 in den Ruhestand
und starb 1948. Der juengste Offizier der Mission muss 1938 an die 60
Jahre alt gewesen sein. Die Massenmoerder waren wohl erheblich
juenger.
Horst Poetzsch
, Bonn

Death camp visit shows the worst of humanity
By Leonard Pitts Jr.
The Miami Herald (Florida)
August 15, 2005, Monday
AUSCHWITZ, Poland _ Birds sing in the treetops of hell.
It is a discovery you keep making, one that keeps taking you by
surprise as you walk in Auschwitz-Birkenau, Belzec, Treblinka,
Tykocin and other sad and solemn places where 6 million Jews were
murdered in a bacchanal of cruelty that ended 60 years ago.
Birdsong. You keep looking up, noticing it here as you never would
elsewhere. You might call it a hope song, proof that life’s circle
will always, eventually, round the corner toward healing.
But the hope song feels out of place. Like the neat lawns covering
what once were fields of mud and excrement. Like the hotdog stand
that sits near the front gate of Auschwitz. There is something
jarring about birds singing in the trees that overlook these places,
something incongruous about melodies of God in workshops of the
devil. About life going on, stubbornly, regardless.
This “interfaith pilgrimage” to Polish Holocaust sites has been
organized by the Remember Committee, a project of the Charleston
Jewish Federation of South Carolina _ one of several
Holocaust-memorial European trips for Americans each year. The 25
sojourners include teachers, a dentist, a lawyer, an insurance agent,
and this Miami Herald reporter, an African American drawn here by a
belief that there are connections between what happened to the Jews
in Europe and what happened to the Africans in America, that they are
but different manifestations of the same inhumanity.
The central figure on the tour, though, is not the reporter, the
dentist or the lawyer. It is the survivor. His name is Joe Engel, he
is 77, and he spent two years on the verge of death.
You wonder: Did birds sing in the trees when the train delivered him
to Auschwitz in 1942? Did they sit warbling in the high branches as
Josef Mengele, the infamous Nazi “doctor,” flicked his thumb right or
left, life or death, for the benumbed Jews who stood lined up for
judgment? Did they fill the air with song as bigger, stronger boys
were sent to die while Engel was sent to “live” in a charnel house
where skeletons staggered about the business of dying and human
remains drifted down in flakes from the crematorium chimneys like
some evil snow?
Or did even nature fall silent with awe?
“Mengele was there,” says Engel as the group enters Auschwitz. He is
pointing to a spot near a metal archway with a sign that reads Arbeit
Macht Frei. A lie no less cynical in German than in English. “Work
Makes One Free.”
Of 2,000 new arrivals who came to Auschwitz that day, says Engel, the
Nazis selected 200 to be housed at the camp. “The rest of them, they
send them to the gas chambers. But in 1942, they didn’t have no gas
chambers then. So what they done, they dig ditches and they force the
people to go into the ditches, with kids and everything else. They
spread gasoline and they threw in some firebombs and that’s the way
they went to their deaths. You could smell the flesh.”
Walk on. Auschwitz is crowded today. Students on school trips,
mostly. Then Engel stops and points to a black cinderblock wall in a
courtyard between two of the two-story brick structures that housed
the Jews. Flowers and candles hug its base.
“Over here, this was the death wall,” he says.
Meaning the spot where Jews were summarily executed.
“This was a high point of the day for the SS,” adds Lara LeRoy,
director of the Remember Committee of the Charleston Jewish
Federation of South Carolina, which has organized this memorial trip.
Engel nods. “This was fun for them,” he says.
Joe Engel is the kind of old man who routinely turns up in newspaper
profiles as spry, meaning that he gets around well and doesn’t
fatigue easily. His English remains a work in progress, even after 50
years in the United States. “German” is pronounced “JOY-man,” “gas”
comes out “guess.”
“You should know,” he warns apologetically, “mine English a little
..” Pause, rephrase. “Broken English, I was a professor,” he says..
He is an irrepressible man. Which makes it easy to forget that, even
though it’s been 60 years and this is his fifth return, it is hard
for him to be in these places. Then you ask too probing a question
and he looks away, toward the tower where the guards once stood.
He says, “It’s no picnic talking about it, you know?”
But he does anyway. “It’s all right,” he reassures. “I don’t mind. I
want the people to know, especially the young people, to prevent
another Holocaust. I don’t care who, whatever you are, things like
that should never happen.
“We survivors thought, after the war, there’s no more wars. That’s
the end of everything. But you can see now what’s going on. People
still killing people and everything. Things didn’t change.”
Across a gravel path from him, school children on a field trip are
crowding into one of the buildings. “Some of them don’t believe,”
says Engel. The memory of one in particular rankles him. “I was in a
school and we talked about it and she rised up and she said, ‘I don’t
believe you, what you said. How could one human do it to another one
like this?’ I said, ‘You don’t believe me? I take you to the place,
so you can find out, you can see for your own eyes.’ You couldn’t
convince her. You got people now said the Jews made it up.”
Auschwitz, where 1.2 million human beings were killed, is not just
one place. There were dozens of sub-camps and three main camps. The
first, called simply Auschwitz, could, if one were willing to
overlook the guard towers and the barbed wire, pass for an Ivy League
college campus, with its weathered brick buildings and lanes shaded
by trees that were not there 60 years ago.
The second main camp, a short bus ride away, is Auschwitz-Birkenau.
It was the intake camp through which prisoners first passed. There is
a shock of the familiar when you see it, because you’ve seen it
before in movies _ “Schindler’s List” and others. The barracks are
long and low-slung and there’s that iconic archway beneath the brick
guard tower where train tracks enter the compound. Sixty years ago,
they carried boxcars full of the doomed. You will not mistake this
for a college campus.
Where Auschwitz is a museum, its barracks plastered with historical
pictures and artifacts on display, Auschwitz-Birkenau is history
largely unadorned, unprettied, unfussed with. The Germans might have
left just an hour ago. The barracks are dank and shadowed, the stone
floors rough and uneven. The rubble of two crematoria sits as it has
for six decades, one destroyed by the Jews in an act of rebellion,
another by the Nazis in an act of cover-up.
“Anybody who wasn’t here can’t believe what we went through inside,”
he says. “You know a lot of books been written about it, a lot of
movies been made about it, but nothing came close to what’s been
going on here in the death camp, Auschwitz-Birkenau. Maybe if I
wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t believe it myself. ‘Ah, what human being
can do it to another one for no reason?’ The only guilt they had,
because they were born Jews. This was the only guilt.”
A woman who is not with the pilgrimage group stands listening. There
is horror on her face.
“Every morning,” says Engel, “you could see hundreds of skeletons.
Not human beings, just skeletons. Bones. The only thing you saw was
bones and a big nose. We used to pick ’em up and they used to take
’em to the gas chambers over there.”
At this camp, as at almost every stop of the tour, LeRoy asks some
member of the group do a reading _ a poem, an essay relating to the
atrocity that happened on this spot. Then the Jews in the group say
Kaddish, the Jewish prayer for the dead. In English, it says, in
part:
“Glorified and sanctified be God’s great name throughout the world
which He has created according to His will. May He establish His
kingdom in your lifetime and during your days, and within the life of
the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon; and say, Amen.
You are struck that there is no lamentation in the ancient words.
There is no woe or why. There is only praise.
That night, after Sabbath dinner, you return to the Hotel Eden, off a
cobblestone courtyard in Krakow. Tired and jetlagged, you read for a
few minutes, then fall asleep.
In the morning, when the group gathers, one of Joe’s cousins nudges
you and shows you pictures of what you missed. They are of Joe at a
party, some street festival a few members of the group stumbled onto
the night before. The music, you are told, was good, the wine flowed
freely. Joe _ “I’m a professional bachelor,” he likes to say _ is
seen dancing with a stunning young blonde in one picture, sandwiched
between her and her equally-attractive friend in another.
It occurs to you that no one knows how to cherish life quite like the
man who has felt the imminence of death. Six million people died in
the Holocaust for being Jewish. Five million more for being
homosexuals, Jehovah’s Witnesses, communists, or simply opponents of
the Nazi regime.
There is _ the word is unavoidably ironic _ something bloodless about
the numbers, repeated now for six decades. There is something in them
too large for minds and hearts to comprehend, too abstract to truly
grasp.
Roughly 3,000 people died in the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, and it is
remembered as one of the most traumatic days in American history.
Eleven million people dead is a Sept. 11 attack every single day for
10 years. It is New York City dead. And Washington, D.C., dead. And
Atlanta dead. And Dallas dead. And Pittsburgh dead. And Miami dead.
And not just dead. Nor even just murdered.
Slaughtered. Butchered. That’s what it was.
A boy at Belzec who had sand pushed down his throat with sticks.
Babies thrown from hospital windows in Lodz, and a young SS man
making a game of how many “little Jews” he could catch on his
bayonet. Women in Auschwitz subjected to an “experiment” in which a
cement-like fluid was pumped into their uteruses. A woman in Przemysl
whose baby was torn from her arms by an SS man who, according to a
witness, “took the baby into his hands and tore him as one would tear
a rag.” And nameless millions suffocated standing up in train cars
too crowded to allow corpses to fall, shot in the brain, tumbling
into graves they themselves had dug, inhaling poison gas in dark
stone rooms.
This is how they died. Butchered. Slaughtered.
Why? Someone once asked this of Mengele.
“Here there is no why,” he said.
___
A klezmer band is playing in a restaurant on the Jewish quarter in
Krakow, where members of the interfaith pilgrimage have just finished
dinner. Several members of the group are engaged in a spirited debate
over how the world should respond to genocide. Then the band goes
into “Havah Nagilah,” the celebration song that has become a Jewish
folk standard, and Joe is up dancing with a woman from the group and
even the debaters have to silence the debate and clap in time,
because you can’t not clap when “Havah Nagilah” plays.
The old man dances as if his bones were made of joy.
No member of the band playing the Jewish song is Jewish. That’s
because there are virtually no Jews left in Krakow. Even here, in the
Jewish Quarter. The synagogues are maintained, but nobody worships in
them. The ancient cemetery is open, but tourists far outnumber
mourners. Before the war, there were 60,000 Jews here out of a
population of 250,000. There are less than 200 now.
Still, the old man dances to Jewish music in a place where all the
Jews are gone. Where there is no rabbi. Where the last bar mitzvah
was before the war.
And you wonder: What is it that gets into human beings that makes
them feel they have the right to deny or annihilate other human
beings for the sin of difference? Slaughter the Jews because they’re
Jewish, enslave the Africans because they’re African, murder the
Armenians because they’re Armenian, the Tutsis because they’re
Tutsis, the Kurds because they’re Kurds, the Sudanese blacks because
they’re Sudanese blacks.
Where does that come from? Why is the lesson never learned, even at
the most ruinous cost?
Graffito spotted on a wall in the Jewish quarter: Juden Raus. Jews
Get Out.
As Chris Huszczanowski, the group’s guide, puts it, “The
anti-Semitism in Poland is a very special one. The anti-Semitism
without Jews.”
You question him, thinking something has gotten lost in his imperfect
English. He repeats himself with emphasis. “Without Jews,” he says.
“Show me, visiting, traveling through Poland, small village,
medium-sized city, a city without any synagogue, any shul there. They
never seen Jew. But you have grafittis on the walls. Like Mogen
David, the David Star, (intertwined with) the gallows.”
“Havah Nagilah” plays on. The old man dances on legs of abandon.
Two days later at Majdanek, a death camp on the outskirts of the city
of Lublin, 15-year-old Jan Rydzha, a high school student, pauses in
his morning’s labors to talk with a reporter. He and a group of his
fellow students are engaged in a class project, using hoes and hands
to clear the foundation of a barracks. Old wash basins and
receptacles for human waste are taking shape, hacked out of the tall
grass.
The reporter has asked Rydzha whether young people here are really
taught about the Holocaust. “In Poland, we have quite a full
education about the Holocaust,” he replies in flawless English. “Not
only about the numbers and the statistics, but about generally the
human tragedy that went with it.”
But Rydzha says he wonders sometimes if the message gets through to
all those who visit Majdanek. “For example,” he says, “in the
barracks, you can actually find some graffiti and some text written
in black marker on the bunk beds. To me, that’s total disrespect and
I just can’t believe who would do that.”
Kasia Zych, who is 18, finds it hard to believe what happened in her
hometown 60 years ago. “It’s huge and enormous and it scares me.”
And to the people who say it didn’t happen? The teenager with death
camp soil on her hands says, “I think they should read more books and
maybe even come here and see it with their own eyes. It happened.
Happened. I think people who say Holocaust never happened are stupid.
They have small intelligence.”
There is a display at Majdanek you would show such people if you
could. It is not the gas chamber where live canisters of poison gas
are still in storage. It is not the glass display case filled by toys
stolen from dead children of long ago. No, it is the shoes.
They fill Barracks 52, row upon row of them in cages made of chicken
wire and wood. Close. Touchable. How far back does this barracks go?
Fifty feet? Sixty? More? The shoes stretch virtually the entire
distance.
You start walking between rows of footwear piled taller than you are,
passing by sandals and slippers and work shoes, black leather dusted
gray by age and time. You move through a forest of things once worn
by children and old men, women and girls, long ago, when they were
living. The air is stale. There is no light beyond that from the sun
which enters through the door in front. The shadows eat it greedily.
It is silent in here, still but for the sound your feet make against
the floorboards as you move further down the row, deeper into places
where sunlight does not follow. Soon you cannot see. But you can
feel. The weight of shoes piled high all around you. The accusation
of their emptiness. A chill rises through you. You keep walking.
It is like walking into death.
___
“Before the war, was very bad for Jews,” Joe Engel tells you. He is
sitting in his bus seat, a few rows from the front. “The anti-Semite
was very bad. Before the war, had the market, Tuesday and Fridays.
Had people with signs, and they’d sit by the Jewish stores and they
told them not to go into Jewish stores. I still remember they said in
Polish, ‘Don’t buy from the Jew.’
“Listen, was very bad. Exactly like the Americans treated the colored
people. Especially in Easter,” he adds. “A Jew was scared to go out.”
He was 12 when the Nazis smashed across the Polish border. “When they
came in, they destroyed the city, they made us wear a Star of David.
You couldn’t walk out on the sidewalk. You had to walk in middle of
street. We had no place to live, so we decided to go to Warsaw.”
They walked for two days. Ended up spending a year in the Polish
capital, living with family. “One room,” says Joe. “At nighttime, the
floor was not big enough for everybody to lie down in the same time.
So we had to take turns lying down on the floor to sleep.”
By 1942, Joe had been deported to Auschwitz. He remembers it as a
series of beatings. Beatings for not moving fast enough. Beatings for
trading food. Beatings for entertainment.
And that was hardly the worst of it. “When I came home from the day’s
work and they saw my bed, for some reason, wasn’t made up like should
be, and it was in the winter time, cold, they make me undress, naked,
and they put me outside and they make me kneel and they took some ice
water, cold water and pour all over you, till you got stiff, almost
frozen to death. They took you inside again.”
Nor was that the worst of it. The worst of it, he will not speak.
To this day, he is not sure why or how he was chosen to live. Nor why
or how he did.
“I’ve been asking a lot of people,” he says. “I would ask the rabbis,
all kinds of people, how come I survived and my parents didn’t
survive. How come you had people there, very religious, they never
sinned in their life, even in the camp, they prayed and prayed, and
after awhile, they sent them to the gas chambers for no reason. And
everybody was expecting a miracle, a miracle from God, but the
miracle never come.
“For me, was a miracle. But for the rest of the 6 million Jews, was
no miracle whatsoever.”
Joe Engel lived in Auschwitz for two years and four months. In
January of 1945, with the Russian army closing in, the Nazis ran,
sweeping before them 58,000 prisoners _ Engel among them _ in one
last march. Most of the Jews were murdered en route. Engel survived
to be herded onto a train. Destination: Germany.
“Was cold,” he says, “was open, no food, no water, nothing. And you
could see peoples dying like flies from the cold weather, freezing to
death. So I told myself, You know, when it’s going to get dark, I’m
going to take my life in my own hands. If I survive, it’s OK. And if
I don’t survive, I don’t have to suffer, you know what I mean? ‘Cause
suffering is more than anything else. The punishments they give you,
it’s worse than death.
“So I said, the hell with it. As soon as it’s going to get dark, I’m
going to jump the train. So, was high snow. And soon as it got dark,
I jumped. They stopped the train, they was looking, and I was under
the snow. They had eight, 10 foot of snow. Luckily, they couldn’t
find me. I was under the snow till the train moved.”
He is tired of talking about it now, maybe tired of remembering. You
thank him for his time. He falls silent and doesn’t speak much for
the rest of the drive. The miles grind away.
But a few nights later, standing before the group at a restaurant in
Warsaw, he returns to the story. It finds him on the run, hiding in a
barn under a pile of hay.
“The Germans came in with the bayonets. And they were lookin’ for
people. They sticked all over to find anyone. How many lives a cat
got? Nine? I must’ve had 11. Luckily, they didn’t find me. A couple
hours later, I was still in the barn. The one side was the Russian
army and the other side was the German army. And I was between. And I
was laying in the barn. And the bullets fly in the barn. How lucky
can a man be?”
He lifts his glass, a toast. “So I hope, if we all get home, we going
to spread the Holocaust, to make people know what the survivors went
through, so their kids can live in freedom. They wouldn’t have to
worry for Holocaust. ‘Cause we all one. If we cannot be one and
looking out for one another, the world going to come to an end.”
He is looking at you. You try to tell yourself it’s only your
imagination. But the glance holds too long to be called fleeting. “So
let’s remember all the people,” he says. “They sacrifice themselves
so other people can live and tell the stories. So don’t forget ’em.
Like we was in Auschwitz, you don’t think they were happy to see us
there? I mean the dead ones. ‘Cause anyplace you step, you find dead
ones. You find blood underneath.”
The eyes are still on you. The gaze is steady and direct. “That’s
what it says: Don’t you ever forget me, so long you gon’ live. You
tell this story for us, because we not here to tell this story.”
You nod and promise that you will. But in truth, it’s a promise
already made. You made it in a field of stones, in a dark place
filled with empty shoes. And in a quiet clearing in the woods.
___
There is in the region of Bialystok a village called Tykocin, a place
to which Jews first came in 1522. By the end of the 19th century,
three quarters of the population was Jewish. There are no Jews there
now, but there remains an ancient synagogue. On its walls are words
in Hebrew partially painted over by the Nazis six decades ago. An
attempt to murder memory.
You drive a couple miles out of town, down a narrow road. The bus
stops and you climb off and walk down a trail into the Lupachowa
forest. After a couple of minutes, you reach a clearing. There you
find two monuments, clustered about with candles. Ahead of you and to
the left and right, are three areas marked off by green fencing,
waist high. These are the graves.
On August 24th and 25th of 1941, 1,400 people _ all the Jews of
Tykocin _ were marched to this place, lined up before open pits, and
shot.
Kaddish is said. Then Lara LeRoy asks if anyone in the group has
words to offer from the Christian tradition. You struggle for
something to say. But the mind quails, the moment passes, the people
move on, each to their own thoughts.
And then the song comes. It is an ancient melody that might be called
the African-American kaddish, a song you often hear black people sing
when pain is present and loss gouges the heart. You are not a singer,
but you sing anyway.
Precious Lord, take my hand,
Lead me on, let me stand
I am tired, I am weak, I am wan
Through the storm, though the night
Lead me on, to the light
Take my hand, precious Lord
Lead me home
You walk about this killing place feeling them, the old men, the
boys, the mothers with babies in arm. Look back down the path along
which they walked to their deaths. Stand under this cathedral of
trees where they stood, waiting for the gunshots.
What did they say? What did they think? Was it here that a little
girl pleaded for her life, promising “I won’t be Jewish anymore?”
Does it matter?
You sing the African-American kaddish over and over. You can’t stop
yourself. The song won’t leave you alone, but you don’t mind. Because
when you sing it, there is no woe or why. There is only that immense
peace that comes from knowing God is nigh. The words lift from you
like weight.
When my way grows drear
Precious Lord, linger near
When my life is almost gone
Hear my cry, hear my call
Hold my hand, lest I fall
Take my hand, precious Lord
Lead me home
A young woman from your group sits on the ground near one of the
killing places, weeping in agony. You’ve never talked to her, don’t
know her name. You sit next to her, put an arm around her shoulder,
say nothing. After a moment she leans against you, sobbing
inconsolably.
You hum “Precious Lord.” The woods are still. Birdsong drifts down
from the trees.

Taz, die tageszeitung
11. August 2005
Bremen Choir workshop for Armenian Genocide to include Armenians &
Turks: But search for Turkish singers becomes difficult
“Es ist richtig, den ersten Schritt zu tun”;
Die Bremer Chorwerkstatt will mit dem Armenischen Oratorium an den
Völkermord von 1915 erinnern: gemeinsam mit Türken und Armeniern.
Doch die Suche nach türkischen SängerInnen gestaltet sich schwierig –
und ist ein Lernprozess für den Chor
von Friederike Gräff
Die Bremer Chorwerkstatt will mit dem Armenischen Oratorium an den
Völkermord von 1915 erinnern: gemeinsam mit Türken und Armeniern.
Doch die Suche nach türkischen SängerInnen gestaltet sich schwierig –
und ist ein Lernprozess für den Chor
Bremen – “Ein bisschen enttäuscht” sei man, sagt Kurt Sommer vom
Vorstand der Bremer Chorwerkstatt. “Aber nicht entmutigt”, setzt er
noch dazu. Also probt der Chor weiter für den November, wenn er das
“Armenische Oratorium” zum Gedenken an den Völkermord von 1915
aufführen will. Nur eben ohne türkische Sängerinnen und Sänger, wie
eigentlich gedacht. Denn der einzige türkische Interessent hat sich
inzwischen verabschiedet. “Er sagte, er hätte keine Zeit”, erklärt
Sommer, aber es klingt nicht so, als glaube wirklich daran.
Die Verbindung von politischer Einmischung und Musik ist Programm bei
der Bremer Chorwerkstatt. Seit 1981 widmen sie sich dem
“gesellschaftlich orientieren Liedgut”, so haben sie es auf ihrem
Flugblatt formuliert. Das reichte in der Vergangenheit von einer
Sozialgeschichte des Kaffees bis zum Gedenken an die
Reichsprogromnacht. Das armenische Oratorium hat Kurt Sommer zum
ersten Mal bei einem befreundeten Chor in Groningen gehört. 1999
haben es die Bremer bei einem Konzert zum Thema Völkermord schon
einmal aufgeführt. Jetzt möchte es der Chor wieder aufnehmen: “Es
gibt ausgesprochene Liebhaber des Oratoriums”, sagt Sommer. Dazu
gehört auch er selbst, der anschaulich von der Schönheit der
orientalischen Instrumente schwärmt, wie der des Dudeks, einer
armenischen Oboe, die aus Aprikosenholz angefertigt wird und ein
Rosenholz-Doppelblatt besitzt, wie Sommer erklärt.
Doch zumindest nach außen steht die polititsche Dimension der
Aufführung im Vordergrund: In diesem Jahr jährt sich
der Völkermord an den Armeniern zum neunzigsten Mal. Und im Herbst
sollen die EU-Aufnahmeverhandlungen mit der Türkei beginnen. In sein
Flugblatt hat der Chor noch recht selbstbewusst geschrieben: “Da eine
solche Mitgliedschaft ohne die Verwirklichung der Menschenrechte und
die Anerkennung des Genozids undenkbar ist, soll die Aufführung des
Oratoriums zum notwendigen Diskussions- und Aussöhnungsprozess
beitragen”.
Um sowohl türkische als auch armenische und kurdische Sängerinnen und
Sänger zu finden, hat der Chor eine Anzeige geschaltet. “Daraufhin
passierte erst einmal gar nichts”, sagt Kurt Sommer. Erst über
persönliche Kontakte sind eine Armenierin und zwei Kurdinnen zum Chor
gestoßen. Und jener türkische Musiker, den seine Frau nach einer
Probe wegen Zeitmangels entschuldigen ließ. “Ich habe keine Zeit”,
erklärt Zehki Kara dazu am Telefon. Viel mehr möchte er nicht dazu
sagen. “Ich bin Musiker und habe kein Interesse an Politik”. Aber
dann sagt er doch noch, dass er kein Problem mit dem Projekt habe,
wohl aber damit, dass die Schuld am armenischen Genozid immer nur den
Türken gegeben werde. “Die andere Seite hat auch viel Schuld”.
So hat die Bremer Chorwerkstatt nur einen türkischen Sänger: Can
Tufan, türkischer Zypriot und jahrelang Leiter des
griechisch-türkischen Solidaritätschors. “Es wäre nicht das erste
Mal, dass er Druck von der Masse bekommt”, sagt Kurt Sommer. “Aber er
ist schon so lange hier, er steht darüber”. Tufan war es auch, der
dem Chor riet, sich mit dem türkischen Journalisten Orhan Calisir zu
treffen. “Ihr müsst euch nicht wundern, wenn keine Türken zu euch
kommen”, hat Calisir gesagt. Denn das Flugblatt sei viel zu fordernd
formuliert. Und Sommer gibt ihm Recht. “Wenn man mit Leuten ins
Gespräch kommen will, kann man nicht gleich Bedingungen stellen”. Im
neuen Flugblatt fehlt der Passus zu den EU-Beitritts-Verhandlungen
und den erforderlichen Schritten in der Türkei. Neue türkische
Interessenten haben sich dennoch nicht gemeldet.
Doch der Chor lässt sich nicht entmutigen: “Wir waren und sind ein
bisschen naiv”, sagt Kurt Sommer. “Aber es ist richtig, den ersten
Schritt zu tun und deshalb versuchen wir es immer noch.”
–Boundary_(ID_mZ5sAN64wo7Wj6H7eBufQg)–

Plain Dealer (Cleveland)
August 9, 2005 Tuesday
Final Edition; All Editions
Violin virtuoso is flawless with orchestra at Blossom
Wilma Salisbury, Plain Dealer Music Critic
CLASSICAL MUSIC
REVIEW
Cleveland Orchestra
Blossom Festival director Jahja Ling led the Cleveland Orchestra in
an extravaganza of orchestral showpieces Sunday night at Blossom
Music Center.
Armenian violin virtuoso Sergey Khachatryan and principal double bass
Maximilian Dimoff took center stage for lyrical concertos by
Khachaturian and Koussevitzky. Assistant conductor Andrew Grams and
the Kent/Blossom Chamber Orchestra opened the evening with a
preconcert performance featuring works by Schubert and Ravel.
For the grand finale, the student players joined the professional
musicians in Spanish-themed works by Falla and Rimsky-Korsakov. The
three-hour-plus marathon gave the enthusiastic crowd more than its
money~Rs worth.
The high point of the program was the superb performance by
Khachatryan, the 20-year-old sensation who soared to world renown
five years ago when he won first prize in the Sibelius competition in
Helsinki. Last year, he made his impressive Cleveland Orchestra debut
playing the Sibelius Violin Concerto. In May, he took first prize in
the prestigious Queen Elisabeth Violin Competition in Brussels,
Belgium.
For his Blossom debut, he chose a work that is clearly close to his
heart: the romantic violin concerto by his 20th-century countryman
Khachaturian. Written in 1940, the piece unfolds in rich,
Eastern-tinged melodies that build up to showy passages. The
impassioned allegro integrates a songful cadenza. The andante is
infused with aching sadness that gives way to a folklike theme and
brilliant fireworks in the finale.
The extraordinary violinist penetrated to the soul of the piece with
sweet tone and flawless technique. Completely absorbed in the
emotional content of the music and sensitively supported by Ling and
the orchestra, he seemed unaware of the audience until the end when
he received a huge ovation and finally cracked a smile.
The Koussevitzky concerto also abounds in melody. Lightly scored and
beautifully written for double bass, the work was warmly performed by
Dimoff, who played an elegant 17th-century Italian instrument. The
intimate piece is not well-suited to a spacious outdoor venue,
however, and the soloist was sometimes overpowered by the orchestra.
The full ensemble showed its vigor and color in the circusy overture
to Kabalevsky~Rs opera, ~SColas Breugnon.~T Collaborating with the
student musicians, the players lavished a rainbow of brilliant
sonorities on the Spanish showpieces. Ling set deliberate tempos in
the first two movements of Suite No. 2 from Falla~Rs ~SThe
Three-Cornered Hat,~T then let the exciting rhythms explode in the
final dance. Rimsky-Korsakov~Rs ~SCapriccio espagnol~T also was taken at
a moderate pace, and several principal players excelled in solo
passages.
The student orchestra performed Schubert~Rs Symphony No. 3 with
youthful energy under Grams~R clear baton, then gave a rushed and
inflexible reading of Ravel~Rs ~SLe Tombeau de Couperin.~T Although the
quality of the playing was uneven, the young musicians benefited from
the opportunity to make music in the Blossom pavilion and to perform
with their Cleveland Orchestra role models.

Schweizerische Depeschenagentur AG (SDA)
SDA – Basisdienst Deutsch
11. August 2005
Schweiz – Tuerkei Deiss-Ausladung in APK des Staenderates ein Thema
Auch Armenier-Genozid wird zur Sprache kommen
Bern
Die Ausladung von Bundesrat Joseph Deiss durch die Tuerkei wird in
der Aussenpolitischen Kommission des Staenderates (APK) diskutiert.
Dabei wird vermutlich der Voelkermord an den Armeniern zur Sprache
kommen – und ob dieser vors Plenum soll.
Bislang habe es keinen Grund gegeben, in der APK auf das Thema
zurueckzukommen, sagte APK-Praesident Peter Briner am Donnerstag auf
Anfrage der Nachrichtenagentur sda. Und er sei zwar nach wie vor der
Meinung, es sei problematisch, als Richter ueber andere Laender und
ihre Vergangenheit aufzutreten.
Die Deiss-Ausladung gebe nun aber Anlass zur Diskussion, sagte Briner
zu einem Bericht des “Tages-Anzeigers” vom Donnerstag. Diese stehe
jetzt auf der APK-Liste “Aktuelles aus dem EVD” fuer die naechste
Sitzung am 22./23. August. “Im direkten thematischen Zusammenhang
steht der Voelkermord an den Armeniern”, fuegte er an.
Fragezeichen erhalten
Briner differenzierte deshalb die letztes Wochenende von der sda
uebermittelte Aussage, der Armenier-Genozid werde im Staenderat kein
Thema sein. “Ich habe in diesem Zusammenhang einige Fragezeichen von
armenischer und tuerkischer Seite erhalten.” Und APK-Mitglied
Simonetta Sommaruga (SP/BE) sei ans APK-Sekretariat gelangt.
Zu den Chancen eines allfaelligen Antrags innerhalb der APK auf
Behandlung des Themas Armenier-Genozid im Staenderatsplenum mochte
sich Briner nicht aeussern. Es darf jedoch angenommen werden, dass
die Mehrheit der Kommission ihre Meinung nicht geaendert hat.
Sie hatte naemlich schon im Winter 2003 – nachdem der Nationalrat den
Armenier-Voelkermord offiziell anerkannte – beschlossen, nicht im
Staenderat darueber zu befinden. Wie der Bundesrat war sie der
Ansicht, das sei nicht Aufgabe des schweizerischen Parlaments,
sondern jene der Tuerkei und von Armenien.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress

Tages-Anzeiger
11. August 2005
Tuerkei loest neue Voelkermord-Debatte aus
von Annetta Bundi, Bern
Die geplatzte Tuerkei-Reise von Bundesrat Deiss fuehrt dazu, dass der
Voelkermord an den Armeniern nun wohl auch im Staenderat thematisiert
wird. Das war nicht das Ziel der Absage.
Die tuerkischen Nationalisten haben sich zu frueh gefreut: Anders als
von einzelnen Presseagenturen und revisionistischen Postillen
kolportiert, haben die Aussenpolitiker des Staenderates keineswegs
beschlossen, zum Voelkermord an den Armeniern zu schweigen und die
1915 von den Tuerken begangenen Massaker “nie” zu thematisieren, wie
dies etwa das Magazin “Turkish Weekly” kuerzlich behauptet hat.
Das Blatt nimmt dabei auf Aussagen Bezug, die der Schaffhauser
FDP-Staenderat Peter Briner gemacht haben soll. Der Praesident der
Aussenpolitischen Kommission stellt nun aber entschieden in Abrede,
je derartige Auskuenfte erteilt zu haben. Es handle sich um
Falschmeldungen, so Briner. “Es ist durchaus moeglich, dass der
Genozid an den Armeniern in der Kommission und spaeter auch im Rat
zur Sprache kommen wird.” Vermutlich sei seine Aussage, wonach der
Staenderat bisher keine Veranlassung gesehen habe, den Voelkermord zu
anerkennen, einfach in die Zukunft projiziert worden.
Ausladung wird traktandiert
Fuer Briner ist klar, dass die Ausladung von Bundesrat Joseph Deiss
an der naechsten Sitzung der Kommission thematisiert werden muss.
“Bei dieser Gelegenheit werden wir natuerlich auch auf die Umstaende
zu sprechen kommen, die dazu gefuehrt haben.” Die Tuerkei hat die
Reise von Bundesrat Deiss offiziell wegen “Terminproblemen” abgesagt.
Der wahre Grund duerfte allerdings in den Strafverfahren liegen, die
in der Schweiz gegen die beiden Genozid -Leugner Yusuf Halacoglu und
Dogu Perincek eroeffnet wurden.
Die Aussenpolitiker des Staenderates haben sich in den letzten Jahren
bereits mehrmals mit dem Voelkermord an den Armeniern befasst. Im
November 2000 beschlossen sie zum Beispiel, dem Bundesrat eine
Petition “zur Kenntnisnahme” zu ueberweisen. Bei dieser Gelegenheit
deponierten sie bei ihm auch den Wunsch, er moege den Genozid im
“politischen Dialog” mit der Tuerkei zur Sprache bringen. Eine
offizielle Anerkennung des Voelkermordes stand im Stoeckli bis anhin
nicht zur Diskussion.
Das koennte sich indes bald aendern. “Der Staenderat darf zu diesem
Thema nicht schweigen”, findet Simonetta Sommaruga, die fuer die
Berner SP in der kleinen Kammer sitzt. Angesichts der juengsten
Ereignisse sei es angezeigt, den Verstimmungen zwischen der Schweiz
und der Tuerkei auf den Grund zu gehen. Sommaruga hat sich schon als
Nationalraetin fuer die Anerkennung des Genozids ausgesprochen. Das
gilt auch fuer ihre Basler Parteikollegin Anita Fetz. Es erstaunt
daher nicht, dass sie sich ebenfalls eine Debatte wuenscht. “Das
letzte Wort ist in dieser Sache noch nicht gesprochen”, ist Fetz
ueberzeugt.
Ob sich fuer die Anerkennung des Voelkermordes im Staenderat
allerdings eine Mehrheit finden lassen wird, ist offen. Viel haengt
davon ab, wie sich die Vertreter der CVP verhalten werden, die den
Armeniern von der Religion her eigentlich eng verbunden sind. Im
Nationalrat stimmten denn auch etliche Christlichdemokraten der
Anerkennung zu – darunter die heutige Praesidentin Doris Leuthard.
Staenderat Theo Maissen, der vor einem Jahr zusammen mit anderen
Aussenpolitikern in der Tuerkei weilte, haelt von derartigen Gesten
allerdings herzlich wenig: “Es liegt nicht an uns, den Weltpolizisten
zu spielen.”
Demonstratives Desinteresse
Solche Bemerkungen stossen den Vertretern der Armenier ebenso sauer
auf wie die Tatsache, dass die tuerkischen Medien mit den von Peter
Briner inzwischen korrigierten Aussagen gegen die Schweiz Stimmung
machen. Endlich finde unser Land zu einer “sanfteren” Politik
zurueck, triumphieren die Nationalisten in ihren Publikationen. “Das
ist ein weiteres Indiz dafuer, dass der Bundesrat gegenueber der
Tuerkei in Zukunft viel entschiedener auftreten muss, als er es
bisher getan hat”, findet der Freiburger CVP-Nationalrat Dominique de
Buman, der als Kopraesident der parlamentarischen Gruppe
Schweiz-Armenien amtet.
Deren Worte haben im Bundesrat aber offensichtlich nicht sonderlich
Gewicht: Bis Wirtschaftsminister Deiss auf die Briefe der
parlamentarischen Gruppe antworte, vergingen jeweils mehrere Monate,
kritisiert der gruene Nationalrat Ueli Leuenberger, der sich mit de
Buman das Praesidium teilt. “Den Interessen der Armenier begegnet
Deiss mit demonstrativem Desinteresse.” Mit einem Vorstoss will er
nun den Druck auf die Regierung erhoehen. “Sie muss gegenueber der
Tuerkei von ihrer beschwichtigenden Haltung wegkommen”, verlangt
Leuenberger.
Peter Briner.

Neue Zürcher Zeitung
11. August 2005
Ist Leugnung des Armeniermords rassistisch?
von Auswärtige Autoren
Ein Beitrag zur Debatte um die Türkei und den Genozid
Von Georg Kreis, Präsident der Eidgenössischen Kommission gegen
Rassismus
Die Kontroverse um die Benennung der Massaker an Armeniern (1915) als
Völkermord belastet nicht zuletzt die Beziehungen der Schweiz zur
Türkei. Im folgenden Beitrag wird bezweifelt, dass die Leugnung des
Genozids im Sinn des Strafrechts rassistisch sei.
In jüngster Zeit ist die Frage erörtert worden, ob die öffentliche
Leugnung des Genozids an den Armeniern von 1915 nicht – analog zur
Leugnung des Holocaust – von Staates wegen verfolgt werden müsse,
weil der Strafrechtsartikel 261&&obis allgemein das Leugnen von
“Völkermord und anderen Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit” unter
Strafe stellt. Wie die Gerichte und zuvor die für die
Tatbestandsabklärung zuständigen Behörden mit der Frage umgehen, ist
ihre Sache. Es wäre aber sonderbar, wenn man von Gerichten heutzutage
erwarten würde, dass sie die Leugnung des Genozids an den Armeniern
grundsätzlich anders beurteilen sollten, als dies durch das
Kreisgericht Bern-Laupen am 14. September 2001 geschehen ist, weil
der Nationalrat Ende 2003 diesen Genozid im Sinne eines politischen
Wertebekenntnisses “anerkannt” und verurteilt hat. Wegen der
herrschenden Gewaltenteilung sollte die politische Interpretation der
Legislative für die Judikative nicht massgebend sein. Anderseits ist
die Einschätzung nicht ganz den Staatsanwaltschaften und Gerichten zu
überlassen. Im Sinne eines gesamtgesellschaftlichen
Verständigungsprozesses kann man auch aus historischer und
gesellschaftspolitischer Sicht dazu eine Meinung haben und aus dieser
Sicht vor einer voreiligen Gleichsetzung von Genozid-Leugnungen
warnen. Denn nur Gleiches soll gleich behandelt werden.
Kein richterlicher Schutz für Geschichte
Einleuchtend bemerkt der Strafrechtler Marcel Niggli in seinem
Kommentar zu StGB 261&&obis (1996), dass das Leugnen nur strafbar
ist, wenn es sich beim geleugneten Vorkommnis tatsächlich um
Völkermord handelt. Liegt der fragliche Tatbestand weit in der
Vergangenheit zurück, könnte sich ein Richter sagen, dass er nicht
zum Historiker werden will, wie dieser nicht Richter sein soll.&&o Es
geht hier aber nicht um die Frage, ob der Genozid stattgefunden hat.
Dies dürfte erwiesen sein, auch wenn es von offizieller türkischer
Seite noch bestritten wird. Es kann in diesem Fall nicht um den
Schutz historischer Wahrheit gehen. Geschichtsverständnis bedarf
keiner richterlichen Bekräftigung. Es geht auch nicht um die Frage,
ob Genozide politisch zu verurteilen sind. Hingegen geht es darum, ob
das Leugnen und Verharmlosen eines historisch feststehenden
Völkermords, derart automatisch, “ohne Frage”, unter die
Strafbestimmung zu stellen ist, wie dies Niggli, gestützt auf den
Wortlaut des Gesetzes, annimmt.
Schutz vor Diffamierung
Wichtig ist es, sich über die Funktion der Strafbestimmung klar zu
werden. Es könnte darum gehen, indirekt vor analogen Exzessen zu
schützen. Wie weit hat aber das Bestreiten eines vor 90 Jahren
erfolgten Völkermords heute begünstigende oder ermunternde Wirkung
oder strebt diese gar an? Doch ist in jedem Fall ein Nichtanerkennen
der rassistischen Essenz eines historischen Vorgangs per se ebenfalls
rassistisch? Auch wenn es sich beim Genozid an den Armeniern um ein
sehr gravierendes Vorkommnis handelt, dürfte heute dessen richtige
Beurteilung im Hinblick auf die Wiederholungsgefahr nicht derart
wichtig sein, dass man von Staates wegen die Beurteilungsfreiheit
einschränken müsste.
Der Sinn des Leugnungsverbots liegt in einem klar erkennbaren Punkt:
Die Strafrechtsbestimmung will eine Variante rassistischer
Diffamierung und insbesondere eine Variante antisemitischer
Propaganda verbieten. Die Leugnung des Holocaust wurde unter Strafe
gestellt, weil dieses Leugnen antisemitisch ist und weil öffentliches
Bekunden von Antisemitismus verboten ist. Die Auschwitz-Leugner oder
Negationisten, wie man sie auch nennt, leugnen nämlich nicht nur die
historische Tatsache, das rund sechs Millionen Juden grösstenteils
systematisch umgebracht worden sind, um sie über die “Endlösung”
auszurotten. Sie werfen den Opfern und ihren Nachkommen vor, mit der
Fabrikation dieser “Legende” politischen und pekuniären Gewinn
erzielen zu wollen, dies gemäss stereotypen antisemitischen
Zuschreibungen von Macht- und Geldgier und Ausbeutung anderer. Die
Botschaft zum neuen Strafgesetzartikel (2. März 1992) hält denn auch
ausdrücklich fest, dass der Schutz des “Andenkens Verstorbener” im
Hinblick auf die “Auschwitz-Lüge” angestrebt werde, weil diese eine
eigene Form “rassistischer Propaganda” sei.
Die Raison d’être des Verbots des Auschwitz-Leugnens liegt also
weniger im Schutz des Angedenkens selbst oder gar im Schutze
historischer Wahrheit als im Schutz vor der skizzierten Diffamierung.
Nun muss man sich fragen, ob im Falle des Armenier-Genozids analoge
Verhältnisse herrschen. Unbestritten ist, dass die Leugnung des
Armenier-Genozids die armenischen Nachfahren besonders verletzt, dass
die armenische Gemeinschaft, ähnlich wie die Juden in einer grösseren
Diaspora auf der Welt zerstreut, ein kollektives Trauma in sich
trägt, dass die Anerkennung für sie ein wichtiger Teil der ihr
zustehenden Satisfaktion ist und dass, sie der Lüge zu bezichtigen,
beleidigend ist.
“Judenfreundliches Privileg”?
Zu fragen ist: Gibt es im Fall der Armenier eine historische und, wie
im Falle des Hasses auf Juden, sich als unheilvoller “Selbstläufer”
in der Geschichte reproduzierende antiarmenische, rassistische
Ideologie, die über die Leugnung des Armenier-Genozids genährt würde,
aber nicht genährt werden sollte? Nach dem Stand unserer Kenntnisse
gibt es sie nicht. Dass die Beurteilung nicht in beiden Fällen gleich
ausfällt, erklärt sich aus der Tatsache, dass die jüdische Minderheit
das unglückliche “Privileg” hat, auch in diesem Fall speziell
rassistisch diffamiert zu werden.
Es ist verständlich, dass man antirassistische Normen nicht als
Schutz einzig für Juden ernst nehmen darf. Juden sind oder wären die
Ersten, die eine derartige “Privilegierung” ablehnten. Es besteht
aber in den europäischen Gesellschaften aus Rücksicht auf die
historische Schuld die Neigung, gegenüber antijüdischer Diffamierung
besonders sensibel zu sein. Die muslimische Minderheit etwa, der
gegenüber Europa nicht in dieser Weise schuldig geworden ist, kommt
nicht in gleichem Masse in den Genuss einer solchen Sensibilität. Die
Konsequenz eines solchen Vergleichs sollte nicht darin bestehen, dass
die Mehrheitsgesellschaft ihre Sensibilität für antijüdische
Diffamierung abbaut, sondern darin, dass sie sie gegenüber
rassistischer und religiöser Diffamierung anderer Minderheiten
ausbaut. Bloss: Die Leugnung des Genozids an den Armeniern ist wohl
kein taugliches Objekt, um die Gleichbehandlung einzufordern und
durchzuexerzieren.
–Boundary_(ID_BSvMy3ggb42bJJNP0a/HQA)–

AIRPORT JUST LIKE REFUGEE CAMP; BA FLIGHTS MISERY
By Jo Willey, Nick Henegan and John Ingham
The Express, UK
August 13, 2005
STRANDED air passengers forced to endure 36 hours of misery at
Heathrow spoke of their outrage last night as the strike-bound
terminals resembled refugee camps.
And British Airways warned that although some flights were expected
to take off within hours, the effects of the disruption would last
into next week.
The 1,000 baggage handlers, loaders and bus drivers behind the wildcat
walkout that grounded all BA flights began to return to work yesterday
afternoon. But flights taking off over the next few days are unlikely
to have food or alcoholic drinks on board.
The walkouts ruined the plans of 70,000 BA passengers around the world
yesterday – on top of the 40,000 caught up in the strikes on Thursday.
Exhausted pensioners and young families were forced to spend the night
on the floor of terminal buildings as people clamoured for space to
lie down.
Their flights were cancelled after airline ramp staff walked out in
support of 800 workers sacked by the catering company Gate Gourmet,
which is BA’s sole Heathrow supplier.
Many of the BA employees who walked out are thought to be relatives
of the sacked catering workers. They began to return only after their
own union, the TGWU, “repudiated” the unofficial walkout.
Then came the news that Gate Gourmet and the TGWU had agreed to talks
with Acas, the conciliation service.
But the TGWU’s national secretary for civil aviation, Brendan Gold,
threatened chaos at airports across the country if the Gate Gourmet
dispute is not resolved. He said: “I’m deeply concerned that what we
are seeing at Heathrow may well escalate across the other airports
in the UK.”
Gate Gourmet provides inflight catering at other UK airports, including
Gatwick, Glasgow, Bristol and Newcastle.
By the time the union called off the illegal action thousands more
would-be passengers had spent the day waiting in outdoor marquees
where they were given food and drink after Heathrow staff were forced
to close the doors of Terminals 1 and 4 because of overcrowding.
When they finally got inside, they faced an agonising eighthour wait
in a queue just to get a new ticket, with staff forced to patrol the
terminals, handing out bottles of water and food parcels.
Irate travellers could not even buy tickets for flights with other
airlines because BA had bought up all available seats in a desperate
bid to clear their everincreasing backlog.
Passengers whose flights were cancelled on Thursday found that they
were unlikely to get new flights until early next week as BA struggled
to cope.
In the terminals, passengers began to complain of being hungry
and dehydrated, and frustration caused tempers to fray with many
turning their anger on airport staff. Holidaymakers desperate for any
information became increasingly irate as BA helplines were jammed and
website information was not updated. BA began yesterday by cancelling
all Heathrow flights until 6pm, only to extend this to 8pm when the
morning shift failed to turn up for work.
The airline said it had 100 planes and 1,000 pilots and cabin crew
in the wrong airports around the world as a result of the strike.
Although BA had booked every available hotel room within two miles
of Heathrow, it was not enough and at least 2,000 passengers were
left huddled on the airport floor wrapped in blankets handed out by
the airline.
One couple were forced to end their honeymoon sleeping on a makeshift
bed of cardboard boxes. Joking that they would be naming their
first-born “Terminal Four”, Sam and Agnieszka Heathcliffe, were due
to fly to their home in Boston on Thursday after their honeymoon
in Poland.
Teacher Sam, 29, said: “When we landed at Heathrow we were kept on
the plane for hours before being allowed off. Then we had to sleep
on the airport floor because we didn’t want to leave our queue for
a new ticket.
It’s been terrible.”
The couple are already trying for a baby, but Sam said: “It was little
crowded last night for any of that. It was really grimy on the floor
and not very romantic.”
One passenger waited for 20 hours in a queue and ended up spraining
her ankle. Liz Alexianan, 35, an executive with Warner Brothers, had
to be treated by paramedics when the strain became too much for her.
On her way to Armenia, a tearful Liz said: “I was on the start of a
dream trip to the country where my family originally come from.
“I had to keep standing in a queue for 20 hours to try and find out
what was happening and my left ankle just gave in under the constant
pressure.”
By mid-morning Neil and Jennie Matthews had been stuck at the airport
for 27 hours, waiting for a connecting flight to Detroit after flying
in from their home in Lyons in the south of France.
Bar owner Neil, 29, said: “We have been queuing for a new ticket
since 4am and we are only just reaching the front of the queue seven
hours later.
“It’s been terrible. We just want to get a new flight and get some
proper sleep.”
Pensioner Sylvia Trolley, from Derbyshire, was making her first trip
to America when she became stranded on the tarmac with no drivers to
take passengers back to the terminal.
She said: “When we did eventually get back we were given restaurant
vouchers but when we went to try and buy some food we were not allowed
in because it was so full. All I’ve eaten are sandwiches.”
She added: “I am so disappointed. They have their reasons for going
on strike, but to leave so many people trapped is unreasonable.”
Irish-born Rob Lowry, 61, was less forgiving. “I’ve no sympathy with
them whatsoever. I hope they all go to hell, ” he said.
Mr Lowry was heading back to his home in Seattle after visiting family
in the west of Ireland.
“Who knows how long I will be stuck here, ” he said. “I haven’t even
got my luggage.”